Dustland Mafia
by KrRcksMySx
Summary: A modern Peaky Blinders set in North Nevada in where Tommy races hotrods, Grace is a jazz singer in a casino lounge, and Campbell is a DEA agent.
1. 1-1

**1.1**

A black shined up 1970 Dodge Challenger sat at the stoplight on a Friday night in Elko Nevada. Anyone that knew anything in that town knew exactly who was sitting in the driver's seat. And anyone that knew anything knew trouble was brewing when a racing orange Mustang pulled up beside it.

The Challenger's driver, Thomas Shelby, silently looked at the driver beside him. Billy Kimber stared back through narrowed eyes. He revved his engine, a powerful V8, and Thomas, Tommy, Shelby turned his head back to the road ahead, no emotion on his face.

Tommy's passenger could have said no emotion was necessary, for he knew his brother was the best racer in the tri-county area. But John Shelby wasn't stone cold like his brother. He took hold of the grab handle above his head and leaned forward to trash talk the competition.

"You think that neon piece of shit can handle Tommy's Challenger?" John roared, smug. "I've got news for you, Kimber. Tommy and me just put a brand new exhaust system on the old girl this morning. This bitch is gonna smoke you and your shitty Ford!"

The light blinked green, and both Tommy and Billy peeled out down the road. Billy took an early lead, but Tommy smoothly caught up. Up 3 car-lengths ahead, in Tommy's lane, a sedan petered along. He knew he was going to have to get around it, and do so in a manner that wouldn't get him stuck behind Billy. He knew if that happened, Billy would keep him behind him, swerving back and forth to keep him stuck in his rearview.

Tommy glanced ahead and mapped it all out in a split second before slamming down on the gas pedal and jumping ahead of Billy's Mustang. He jerked the car into the lane, narrowly missing the rear bumper of the small sedan. He then eased up on the gas directly in front of his opponent.

Now he was in the lead. He took advantage of his position and kept Billy trapped behind him, keeping him from passing by swinging between lanes.

John was hooping and hollering in excitement, sitting on the edge of his seat, already congratulating him on his clear win. Tommy, meanwhile, was cool and focused. He glanced at the clock face on his dash and then immediately back at the road ahead.

Tommy knew the road, and he knew that Billy Kimber knew the road. But Tommy knew the cops too, so when he was one block out from First Avenue, he made a hairpin turn to the left and barreled down the road until he was able to coast to the legal speed limit.

"What the fuck, Tommy? We had that one in the goddamn bag!" John yelled over the rumble of Tommy's Hemi, picking himself up from being plastered to the side of the door.

Thomas Shelby never took his eyes off the road, making a soft right turn as he spoke, "It's a Friday night at One Thirty in the morning. Officer Stanley is going to be rolling out of Kempf's Donut Hut at the corner of First and Fairway and he's going to see Billy Kimber in his orange Ford Mustang with BllyBA (Billy Bad Ass) plates hurtling down First Avenue."

John grinned, and sat back in his seat, smug with his older brother's genius foresight. Tommy had always been gifted that way, with an uncanny ability to think problems through and realize every possible outcome, planning for the worst and working towards the best. In John Shelby's opinion, it was most likely why his brother had raised the ranks as a Marine, and eventually was awarded the Medal of Honor and became the town hero.

Thomas made another right turn, making his way back to First Avenue, and as he came upon it, he looked down the way and saw distant flashing lights. John laughed, and slapped his knee.

"Serves that fuck right, damn coppers got 'em one tonight. Thank god it isn't me!" John bellowed as Tommy took them down the other end of the road, back towards town. The neon of Main Street glowed in the distance as they came up on it. "I'm buying your fucking beer tonight, brother!" John added, in full-on celebration mode.

Tommy pulled his Challenger up to the front entrance of the Red Lion Casino and stepped out. He dropped his keys in the hand of the valet boy that scurried to meet him. Tommy paid him no attention as he and John walked through the entrance and were greeted by each employee they passed.

Hospitable smiles, and eager workers paraded by, but Thomas Shelby never cracked a smile. This wasn't unusual though. Everyone that knew Tommy, knew his temperament and what had caused it. His own aunt, Polly Gray, cursed the day he signed up for the Marines, saying it was the goddamn war's fault. Iraq had changed him

The boys had reached the casino floor and were making their way across. John looked around at the action on the floor, strutting along as if he owned the place. They passed an old woman that had just hit a jackpot and he leaned over to give her a high-five in passing, despite never having met her in his life.

Tommy led his brother back past a velvet curtain into the high-roller lounge. It was dark and secluded. There was a bar on the back wall and a small stage at the other end. At a table in the center of the room, sat the oldest Shelby, Arthur, with a cigarette in hand.

All the Shelby boys were big spenders at the Red Lion, but even if they hadn't played a game in months they were still welcome to the VIP lounge. Part hometown pride for Thomas Shelby's military honor and his brother Arthur's service, and part fear of the rough and rowdy Shelby reputation kept the boys in high regard, with access to the best, and often-times it was on the house.

"Oh you shoulda seen it, Arthur!" John called out, sliding into a chair next to his brother, while Tommy took another. "Tommy whooped Billy Kimber's ass!"

"Well I fucking hope so. Don't tell me you're prone to losing to that bondo bucket of his," Arthur responded, twisting in his seat to look at his brother.

Tommy raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, taking his seat.

"Best part is Billy's getting himself a fucked up speeding ticket. - Three beers!" John interrupted himself, yelling at the bartender across the room.

"And you didn't? How'd you get away with that? Was it a woman cop?" Arthur asked. "Tommy, you battin' your eyelashes and flexing your arms when she walked over?" The eldest Shelby joked, grinning, while lifting his beer glass and taking a large gulp.

"No." Tommy replied, also taking his beer. "Can I get a whiskey?" He asked the cocktail waitress before she scurried off. "I'm an upstanding citizen. I don't get speeding tickets."

His brothers burst out laughing.

"Fucking coppers. Not like Tommy's gonna hit nothing. He squeezed himself right in front of Billy." John bragged.

"Cops are swarming this area. Got the damn DEA here now. Sergeant Moss told me there's a shitload of 'em piling in. Trying to clean up the area or some nonsense." Arthur chimed in.

Tommy swirled the whiskey in his glass, listening to the conversation unfold. As everyone could have predicted, John started off on a rant against the police. As a somewhat frequent visitor of the county jail, he had grown to distrust the police force. Not to mention that they were crooked as hell, and most of them lined their pockets with Shelby money.

As his brothers became drunk on beer and self indulgent conversation, Tommy thought. Thought about Billy Kimber and the cops, and what his brother had told him about DEA agents in town.

Obviously meth had become a rampant problem in town, due to how simple it was for any dumbass to make it in his own kitchen. But surely there wasn't a whole group of federal agents swarming into town on that account. Elko wasn't big enough to merit that kind of attention.

No, Tommy had a pretty good idea why the DEA had come to town. And it didn't have anything to do with Meth heads.

…

About a week back, Tommy spotted a beautiful custom fender design on an SS Camaro, and he wanted it. It would have reduced the drag on the Camaro he used for races, and increase his speed and range of mobility on the track. But Thomas Shelby doesn't pay for car parts, especially when it comes to custom outfitting.

So he practiced the Shelby way of doing things, which was rounding up Charlie and Curly who had worked for the family since Tommy had been born and between the three of them they lifted that car for Tommy's collection.

Once the easy part was over, and they had it in the Shelby garage, the hard task of taking it apart fell to the men. Charlie and Curly had already taken off the side panel Tommy wanted, so he took it over to the other end of the garage to his own Camaro and set the task of piecing it together while the two finished up taking pieces off the stolen car to use for other projects.

"Uh, Tommy?" Charlie asked, interrupting Thomas' progress.

"Mmm?" He responded, still holding the side panel up to see how it would integrate.

"You might want to look at this," Charlie said, sounding apprehensive.

Of the hundreds of things Tommy could have guessed Charlie was about to point out to him, this was not any of them. In Charlie and Curly's hands were small, brick-shaped plastic bags, wrapped up in brown packing tape.

Tommy glanced from man to man, eyeballing the items they were holding, then back to the car, silent. Charlie and Curly were anxious now, waiting to see Tommy's final reaction.

Thomas Shelby was normally a calm man. He was quiet, reserved. He would analyze a situation before having any interaction. Which was quite unlike his brothers, who were quick to violence, and loud outbursts of emotion. But what made Charlie and Curly so unnerved by Tommy's silence now, was that he didn't always keep everything inside. Especially when in the company of close acquaintances, which Charlie and Curly were considered.

Tommy narrowed his eyes, and knelt down beside the stolen car. He lifted up the panel beside the one he'd had removed, and there stuffed inside, were more square, brick shaped packages wrapped up in tape. Tommy rose and walked towards Charlie and Curly and took one of the packages from their hands. He weighed it in his own hand before reaching into his back pocket and retrieving his pocket knife.

He cut into the package, and small chips of white crystal came out. He calmly inspected the substance as he put away his pocket knife, then sniffed it and tasted it on the tip of his tongue.

"Well boys, it looks like we have a fuck ton of cocaine on our hands now." Tommy said, sounding unimpressed. He handed the brick back to Charlie and strolled back over to his own car. "Put all of it back in there as you found it. Then take off the other side panel I want." He instructed.

Charlie and Curly silently breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that no violent outburst was coming and set to their task, diligently.

"Once you've got those off, put mine on in its place. Then start up the sprayer and we're going to paint it to match." Tommy added, laying down his own side panel on the workbench beside his car.

Both Charlie and Curly knew better than to question Tommy's orders or ask what they were working towards, so they just did as they were told. They had a little trouble fitting Tommy's side panels onto the stolen car, since they weren't shaped the same, but they finally got them on and looking passable.

It was almost dawn when they finished putting it together and Curly was about to start up the sprayer. "What color we gonna paint her, Tommy?" He asked, looking over the limited selection the Shelby garage had to offer.

"It's too late to start that now. Just cover her up with that old car tarp and push her into the back lot. We can finish it another night." Tommy told the men, and looked over his new side panels. "Put some red in that sprayer though, I'm going to paint these to match mine" He added, setting up a spraying spot.

"We can do that, Tommy. Go get some sleep." Charlie told him, scurrying to help out.

"No, I want to do it. Just finish up on that one and head home." Tommy told them, and set to his own task, the wheels turning in his head.

…

Cool morning air breezed down through Main Street and with it was a young woman walking down the street. Her long blonde hair was lightly curled and swayed in the breeze. She had on a plain dress and smart heels that clacked down the sidewalk as she walked.

The woman, a Grace Burgess, had just moved into town, set up her small apartment down the street last night, and was now on her way towards securing herself a job. Her sights were set on the Red Lion Casino. She'd found an opening on their website for a lounge singer, and was greatly interested.

Grace had always loved singing. Her father had fostered a love of music in her at a young age and she had participated in school performances all the way up to graduation. She even joined in on the occasional karaoke session during her university years.

However, Grace had never done anything like this. She'd never set her career on music. She'd been told time and time again that she had a beautiful voice. But she'd never tried making her income off of it before now. So she was nervous. But determined.

She stopped in front of the casino entrance and looked up at the tall flashing neon sign heralding the loosest slots in town and took a deep breath before walking in.

She was greeted by many smiling employee faces. No doubt, thinking she was a customer. She stepped onto the casino floor and the lights dimmed, the floor crowded with bright flashing slot machines. She took a good look around and walked the perimeter. She took notice of the location of the high dollar slots and passed by the table games before stepping up to an employee and asking for Harry Fenton, the bar manager, of who was referenced in the online job posting.

She was herded into a back room, and passed a thick velvet curtain to find a small lounge, complete with a small elevated stage in the back corner, a bar tucked into the wall on the other side, and cafe tables dotted around the room to sit and enjoy a beverage and the night's entertainment.

The room was mostly empty now, save for a middle aged gentleman behind the bar, who looked like he was juggling several drink orders at once, and a few clearly drunk gentlemen seated at the bar near him. Grace wondered how there could be drunks at a bar already at ten in the morning, but shoved that thought aside, approaching the middle aged bartender.

"Mr. Fenton?" Grace asked, and the middle aged man looked up at her as he deposited drinks to the men sitting in front of him.

"It's Harry. Are you needing a drink?" The man asked her, looking her up and down. "This is the VIP lounge, are you a member?"

"No, I'm actually here about your job posting for a lounge singer." Grace told the man while the drunks started laughing loudly beside her.

The man looked between her and his customers, noting her look of disdain at their raucousness and shook his head. "Lounge singer, here? Honey I don't think you're cut out for this job."

Grace furrowed her brow, "No, this is the job I want." She informed him, turning to the drunken gentlemen beside her and taking one of their hands.

She started singing, and Harry recognized the song as a popular alternative rock song from a couple decades ago, but the way Grace was singing it, made it sound like an old jazz ballad. Her voice lilted and dipped, twisting the melody and words into a beautiful new rendition Harry had never heard before. And what was more, was that the two drunk gentlemen had stopped yelling and laughing, but sat in silence, watching and listening to Grace serenade them.

One of the intoxicated gentlemen had stars in his eyes by the end of the song, and his drunken friend was singing along. Harry at the bar had to hand it to Grace that she could sing, and not just that but handle a tipsy patron, but this was just two men.

"Okay, I'll let you try that out tomorrow night, see how you handle a crowd. This isn't karaoke at the bar, this is the VIP lounge. You've gotta have guts and you've gotta be able to handle drunk men all over you." Harry told Grace, "If you can handle our big shots, you got the job." He finished, extending a hand for Grace to take.

Grace smiled, feeling triumphant. "Sounds like a deal." She told him, shaking his hand.

"My advice to you is to keep the high-rollers happy. They're the ones that pay our salary." He shrugged in the direction of the two drunken men Grace had just serenaded, "And don't let these idiots fool you, they may be here all the time, but you should be able to tell who's important around here."

Grace nodded, in response, taking a mental note.

"Make buddy-buddy with the regulars, make 'em feel good, keep them happy. Some of them may ask you to bring a drink over when it's slow. Basically you want to be best friends with the big boys. Learn all about their sorry lives and their problems, it makes you good tips." The bartender said, enunciating the end of his speech by raising his eyebrows in her direction.

"I think I can handle that. I think of myself as a people person," Grace responded, understanding the job was part cocktail waitress, part performer.

"Oh! And one last word of advice," Harry said, leaning in to Grace, and lowering his voice, "All that I just said about buddy-ing up and learning about past lives,"

Grace nodded in response, paying serious attention.

"Forget about that shit if it's a Shelby. Just steer clear of them if you can, hon." Harry advised, looking Grace up and down as if he still didn't truly believe she belonged in that lounge. He turned back to his bar and started cleaning glasses as Grace let his words sink in and furrowed her brows in thought.

…

Early in the morning hours, back in the high-limit blackjack tables sat the oldest Shelby brother, Arthur, who was turning over cards and raking in chips. At his sides sat two very attractive women, both clinging to his side and cheering him on. Arthur just raised his bet, scooting over a stack of chips when two uniformed men came up behind him looking very serious and very stern.

The dealer, ceased mid-shuffle, to take notice of the men, causing Arthur to spin around in his chair and look up at the duo. He'd already had two beers too many, so while trying to turn around, he'd nearly fell out of his chair. One of the officers grabbed a hold of him as the other spoke.

"Mr. Shelby, we're going to need to talk with you."

"I'm busy at the moment," Arthur slurred out, trying to swerve himself back around to his game, and failing in the grip of the man's arm. This irked Arthur who was used to getting his way, so he raised his voice, "I'm not going anywhere with you fuckers now get the hell off me!" He yelled, and started thrashing about, losing the grip on his arm.

The girls on his side shrieked, and tried diving out of the way from the action that ensued, where the men grabbed a hold of Arthur who kicked and screamed his way from his seat all the way out of the casino, cursing both the men and trying his hardest in his drunken state to fight them.

Once they'd gotten in the back of the house, behind closed doors, all hell broke loose and both men started beating the ever living hell out of Arthur until he was incapacitated enough to be bound, gagged, and have a bag thrown over his head.

Arthur was drunk and beaten, but he could still feel himself and his world shifting. He was being carried somewhere. He was dropped and the loud thunk of his body hitting the surface made him realize he was just thrown into the back of a truck. He heard an ignition start and he was drove around for an indeterminate amount of time before he was hoisted up and set down hard in a chair. The bag was ripped from his head, but he remained bound and gagged.

Arthur wasn't sure where the fuck he was, but there was a man in front of him. A different man, who wasn't in uniform but in dress slacks and a button down shirt. He had a mustache and closely cropped hair that was graying at his temples. The man violently removed Arthur's gag, but was beaten to the first words.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Arthur cursed, causing the man to purse his lips. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? Do you know who the fuck I am?" He continued yelling.

"I know exactly who you are, Arthur Shelby Jr." The man responded coolly. "What you should be asking is who am I?" The man told him.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion before responding, "I did ask you that, you dumb twat! First words out of my mouth were who the fuck are you?!"

Anger flashed over the man's face and he swung at Arthur and hit him across the jaw, hard. "The answer is that I am not a man to be messed with." he responded and stepped back, pacing back and forth as he spoke.

"I am going to ask you some questions, and we can do this quick and simple or you can be belligerent and stupid if you so desire. But I am going to get my answers either way, the choice for you to make is how I am to get my answer."

Arthur spat blood at the man, dirtying his clean pressed shirt. The man narrowed his eyes and kicked at Arthur, knocking his chair backwards and causing Arthur's head to hit the solid ground, hard.

The mustached man then knelt beside Arthur and pulled him up by the hair on his head and showed him a fist covered with rings. "What have you done with the cocaine?!" He yelled at him.

Which Arthur confusedly shouted back, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

The man let his fist fly, bashing into Arthur's skull, and cutting the flesh of his face with his rings. "We know your filthy family moved the drugs. What are you involved in? What are you doing with it? Where the fuck is it?!" He screamed, beating Arthur into submission.

This continued for quite a while before one of the uniformed men standing guard nearby cleared his throat, innocently, catching the man's attention, who slowed down, and left Arthur in a bloody heap in the floor. Arthur's answers never wavered. He had no earthly clue what the man was talking about or asking his questions for.

The man had enough and stepped away, leaving the uniformed men to dispose of the eldest Shelby boy.

…

A raucous Saturday night crowd filled the Red Lion, and Grace was in the spotlight, singing her heart out. She'd covered everything from classic jazz to soulful 80s rock n roll. And the crowd was eating it up. The men were all pretty drunk, and some of them got a little grabby, but Grace had killed it.

Harry at the bar officially hired Grace only an hour after the start of her shift, when she'd gotten an old regular and high-limit player to order a round for everyone in the lounge in Grace's honor. Sure he had more to drink than usual, and was being more generous than he'd care to be if he were stone-cold sober. But that didn't matter, because he wasn't.

Grace sat with him, during her break and listened to him whine about his bitch wife who couldn't keep house if her life depended on it, and coyly shot down his offer for dinner before hitting the stage again to soothe his broken heart with a soft ballad.

There had been so many players come and go over the course of the night that Grace couldn't keep track of them all. The names and faces were swimming in her head, and she told Harry so at the end of the night when the lounge closed down and she was counting out her tips.

"You'll get them all eventually. Just takes time and familiarity." He told her, cleaning up his bar, and putting back clean glasses in their respective spots.

"I'm sure I will," Grace responded, then chuckled to herself. "Is Mick Clarida usually so candid about his marriage?' she asked, raising her brows curiously.

Harry thought about it a minute before responding, "No, but he's usually not that intoxicated either." He picked up one of the martini glasses he'd just set down and placed it on the bar before him, starting to fix a drink. "You did good tonight. Real good, you handled the drunks perfectly and kept the still sober players happy." he told her and finished shaking up a dirty martini, pouring it into the glass and added an olive garnish. He pushed it down the bar, clearly handing it to Grace.

She sat back and looked at it, trying to decide if he was offering her the drink in celebration of her night, or if he wanted her to pay for it.

"Oh no, I've seen the prices you charge here, I can't afford that. At least not just after one night of work," Grace told him, joking, and pushed the drink back towards Harry.

He smiled and paused, as if he wasn't sure how to respond, but he pushed the drink back her way. "No, it's already been paid for."

The look in his eyes made it clear to Grace that he wasn't insinuating that he'd bought the drink and was offering her a free drink for her work that night, but that someone had asked him to make her a drink at the end of the night. And once Harry knew that she'd understood that he stepped back.

"Take your time, when you're done, wash her up and stack her. I'll see you tomorrow night." Harry told her, leaving her alone in the lounge to wonder who'd bought her drink, and why he hadn't openly told her who.

Grace felt her pulse twitch at the bizarreness of it. She sighed and composed herself, taking the drink and enjoying it. She was alone and it had been already been purchased so no need to waste top shelf vodka, she thought.

…

On the edge of Elko, on over 20 acres of land sat the Shelby Salvage Yard, a sprawling heap of rusting cars, and spare parts that had been in the family for generations. The garage in the back was where most of the action happened, and had churned out several beautifully souped-up racers that had won the Shelby's trophies in the past couple decades. Back further from that was an old modified barn, with chipped red paint that had been turned into the family residence not long after the second world war.

The family matriarch, Polly Gray (nèe Shelby), was at the kitchen table, fussing with a bloodied Arthur shelby, who was cursing and fighting her iodine treatment.

"Fuck! You tryin' to burn off what skin I've got left, Pol?" Arthur cursed, trying to swat away her administering hands.

"If you'd just hold still this will go a hell of a lot quicker," Polly retorted, dryly.

John had entered the kitchen, picking up a bruised apple, and chuckled as he took a seat opposite his eldest brother. "What lawnmower did you lose to?" He teased as he took a bite of his fruit.

"Fuck off." Arthur replied before hissing at the iodine in his wounds.

"If you want to get gangrene, be my guest!" Polly said, standing up, finished with fighting her nephew to tend to his wounds. John laughed and Arthur shot him a look of contempt. "Maybe you should just go to the damn hospital." She told him, throwing down her towel.

"How am I supposed to explain this to the bitches at the fucking hospital?!" Arthur erupted.

"How about you start by explaining to us what the hell happened to you." Polly responded.

Arthur shut up real quick and got up to walk towards the cabinet where he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured himself a tall glass.

"Yes, by all means, Arthur, just drink it away." Polly said, exasperated.

"I don't even know what the fuck is going on!" I don't know why I was taken hostage and beat up!" Arthur yelled back.

"Taken hostage?" Came the calm and curious voice of Tommy from the doorway. Everyone turned to glance at him.

"Yes, I was taken by two men right in the middle of the goddamn casino. I was in the middle of my game. I didn't even get to cash out my fucking chips!"

Polly rolled her eyes. "God knows that's all that mattered to you,"

"So you were taken by two men, by force, to some other location and they just beat the ever-loving shit out of you?" Tommy asked him, leaning against the door frame.

Arthur looked a little sheepish, but responded with a yes. "Well, there was another man asking me stupid ass questions, I didn't know nothing about." He added, taking a deep swig of his drink.

"What kinds of questions?" Tommy asked.

"I don't know!" Arthur yelled back. "He kept asking me about cocaine." He told his brother.

This piqued Tommy's interest.

"You think this has to do with the DEA agents?" John interjected.

"The DEA thinks we're drug smugglers. No surprise there." Polly commented.

John laughed. "Good thing we've got the cops around here on our side."

"What else did he ask you?" Tommy asked Arthur, who had been content to be finished going over his embarrassing debacle.

"He told me he'd be in touch with us Shelbys. Wanted me to let him know if we heard anything havin' to do with what he'd asked me. The cocaine I guess." Arthur said sheepishly.

"What are we gonna do for them?" John asked, incredulous.

"What COULD we do?" Polly added.

"He wants us to be a mole." Tommy answered, calm as ever. The group all turned to stare at him. "He thinks we know something, clearly. Otherwise he wouldn't have had Arthur taken and interrogated."

"Well that's a sack of horse shit." John replied.

"Fuck yeah! We don't mess with drugs. They've got their stories messed up." Arthur added, feeling unjustly profiled.

"If it's drugs, they're looking for, they should've fucked up Freddie!" John sneered, which received a dark look from Tommy.

"So we have to work for the DEA now?" Polly asked, getting back on track, and pointing her question at Tommy rather than Arthur.

"They are asking us to cooperate. We should see what they want from us." Tommy answered. Polly pursed her lips, none too pleased with his answer.

"Fuck 'em!" John cheered. "We don't have to do jack shit for them."

"Yeah, at this point, they owe us!" Arthur joined in. "Owe me!"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Polly grumbled, knowing Arthur was about to get on a rant about his missing casino winnings.

"Red Lion better give me my money!" He roared, standing up to go storm out and collect his winnings right then and there.

"Whoah, that's gonna have to wait, brother." Tommy told him, putting and firm hand to Arthur's chest, and slowing him down.

John laughed. "Yeah, you look like shit." He told his brother, who deflated and plopped back down in his chair.

"You're money is fine. The Red Lion is good to us, they'll keep your money until you're good and ready to collect it." Tommy told him, patting him on the shoulder. He turned and gave his aunt a look, asking her to try and administer to his brother's wounds again, and she soured.

"Oh Tommy says I should do it, that means all the planets will align and his stubborn ass brother will sit still and let me pour antiseptic on his shredded face…" Polly grumbled quietly to herself, pulling her a chair up to Arthur who immediately tried to shy away.

Tommy smiled to himself, having heard every word his aunt had said under her breath, before he grabbed another bruised apple off the counter and walked out the door.

…

Tommy slammed the hood down on the Camaro he'd been working on in the garage for the past few hours. The sun had set a while back and the rest of the family had already retired to bed for the night. He glanced at his wristwatch and turned out the lights, locked the door, and headed back towards the house.

He quietly entered, walked passed Arthur who was passed out on the couch and headed back towards the kitchen. He found a nearly empty bottle of Jack on the counter with a spilled tumbler next to it. Tommy sighed, just as a loud snore erupted from the living room.

He wiped down the counter and poured the glass full before taking a long drink and poured himself more, draining the bottle completely. He threw out the bottle and retreated upstairs to his room.

Once there he set the glass on his nightstand and pulled off his t-shirt and jeans, before plopping down on the edge of his unkempt bed. He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and took out a prescription bottle, shook out two pills and chased them down with his whiskey.

He laid back in bed and closed his eyes, exhaling. Tommy hated the night, hated sleeping. It hadn't always been that way, back before his deployment, Tommy had been able to sleep like a baby. But ever since he'd come back home, he only slept for an hour or so at a time, and it was never refreshing.

As soon as Tommy felt sleep take him that night, he was in his fatigues, covered in sweat, making the fabric stick to his skin uncomfortably. He bobbed in his seat as the tank he was riding in traveled down the road. Driving beside him was Freddie Thorne, his best friend since childhood, and stationed behind him was his older brother Arthur.

Up ahead in the haze of heat, Tommy could see a figure rising up. He felt his pulse quicken, and he glanced Freddie's way. Their eyes met and he could tell Freddie was just as concerned as Tommy. Arthur leaned forward, seeing the image too.

They all awaited Tommy's orders. The haze of heat cleared and Tommy could see it was a tank that was ahead of them, heading their way. They were silent. Tommy could feel Freddie keep turning to look his way, waiting for him to tell him to stop, but the tank just came closer and closer.

It was silent. Tommy could only hear the breathing of those around him, and his heartbeat, thumping, pounding faster and faster. He could feel a lump growing in his throat and he clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from shaking.

The tank was only a few yards ahead and Tommy saw the main gun slowly move to position itself, locking in on Tommy's vehicle. He felt his heart race, and salt fill his mouth. He opened his mouth to shout orders, and shot up in his bed, clinging to his bed sheets, drenched in sweat, and panting as if he's run an olympic race.

Tommy tried to catch his breath after waking up from his recurring nightmare, blinking in the darkness, his eyes adjusting. He could see the moonlight pour through his curtains, and the faint glow from his bedside clock. He checked the time and threw the covers off of himself.

"Forty-five minutes this time," He said to himself, feeling angry and tired. He got up and walked to the window, looking down at the junkyard in the distance. He clenched his jaw, and thought of Arthur passed out on the couch downstairs, drunk off whiskey.

Tommy envied his brother at night. The idea of drinking until you passed out sounded refreshing, but Tommy was afraid he might become stuck in his nightmares. That's why he never tried Freddie's way of coping.

Tommy had calmed himself down, and trudged back to his bed, laying back down. He didn't want to go back to the place he'd just been, so he tried thinking about something else. So he let his mind wander.

…

Two blocks off the main drag, was a small, historic building, that had once been a general store. Now it had been converted into an antique shop, with furniture, glass, and art stacked up on top of each other, fighting for space to be seen.

It was early Monday morning, and Grace had just walked inside of the store, greeted by the ding of an electric bell from the door's opening. The shop owner nodded in her direction before going back to her task of pricing items.

Grace perused the china and knick-knacks, taking a turn into the back room where large paintings were stacked along the floor. There was a man there, flipping through the selection. The same man that had interrogated Arthur just a few days previous.

Grace cautiously approached him, and quietly cleared her throat. The man, a Chester Campbell, turned to Grace and looked her over.

"I trust you've found accommodations and a suitable job?" He asked her.

"Yes, I've taken a job in the Red Lion." She answered, as if she were giving a report.

"Great, the lowest of the low frequent that place. It's a perfect spot." Campbell replied. His face showed concern though. "I apologize you have to deal with such despicable characters. I know your father would be sad to see it, but I know you're a strong enough woman to withstand the temptations of this town." He added, pride and sincere, warm affection lacing his voice.

"I will be fine." Grace told him, firmly.

"Yes, I know you will be." Campbell told her. "I just hope you understand I can't step in to save you." He warned her.

"I'm aware. I knew that when I accepted the position." She replied.

"I just hate to think of anything happening to you. Your father was a great man. I owe-"

Grace cut him off, "No, I will be fine. I know how to handle myself. My father taught me how to protect myself."

Campbell smiled and chuckled to himself. "I know that, Grace. It's just my nature, I guess to be protective of you. Especially since you're my partner now."

"I can't really be your partner if we don't even work together." Grace retorted.

"Not in physical proximity, of course. But I just meant-"

Grace cut him off again, "I know what you meant," She said kindly.

Campbell straightened up, resuming his seriousness. "Of course…" He turned back to the paintings, momentarily, before pausing and resuming his conversation. "Your first objective is to meet the Shelbys. I want you to find out all you can about them." He told her, then nodded his head to let her know that was all.

Grace held her head high. "Yes, of course. Consider it done."

…

In the dead of night, Tommy had called Charlie and Curly to a secret meeting. The tarped car was still in his garage, and Tommy wanted it out. Charlie and Curly had been tasked with quickly stripping the side panels off and prepping them for a paint job.

"Just match it as close as you can." Tommy told them, loading the cocaine bags that had been previously concealed with the side panels into the trunk before sitting down in the driver's seat and starting up the engine.

"Won't we need the car here to match it?" Curly asked, seeing that Tommy was about to take off.

"I haven't finished the paint on my own Camaro, reference that." Tommy calmly instructed, and carefully maneuvered the stolen Camaro out of the garage and left Charlie and Curly to their work.

He stuck to the western edge of the yard as he drove out, keeping the headlights off. Thankfully for him, driving by the sheer light of the moon was easy that night, since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and it was almost a full moon. He let his arm relaxedly hang out the window as he traveled down the rural road and passed over a barren desert landscape into the middle of nowhere.

After forty-five minutes of driving Tommy slowed down, reaching his destination. He left the car in it's hiding spot, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbing down both the steering wheel and gear shifter.

He slammed the car door and wiped it down too. He circled the back of the car and wiped off the trunk for good measure and stuffed his handkerchief back into his rear pocket. Tommy then checked the time on his watch before starting to walk back in the direction of home.

* * *

 _I'm in love with Cillian Murphy you guys. If you've never watched the show (although I don't know why you'd be reading this if you haven't) you NEED to. It's a GREAT show. It's got badass guys in suits looking fine as hell. Not going to lie, the only reason I started watching it in the first place is because I saw pictures of Cillian in it and fell in love with him._

 _Emotions aside, I've been working on this for a while. It's one of my stories I've got the whole plot mapped out, so if I lag on it it's just my life getting busy and my creative funks getting in the way. I love the story though, and when I'm writing I'm listening to lots of classic rock so if you're interested I can list some of the songs I listen to during the chapters._

 _This is also going to be a rather short story with only going to be six chapters, but they're long chapters (as far as my writing goes anyway). So stick around and we'll see how this goes._

 _As always, thanks for reading and reviews always brighten my day!_


	2. 1-2

1.2

Friday nights in Elko were a busy night. Families packed into steakhouses, and teenagers filled the bleachers at the football game. The Red Lion had prepared for a busy night as well, and Grace was already helping serve up bottles.

The Shelby gang was in their usual Friday night spot, the Elko Racetrack. Several miles outside the city limits was an old dirt track that the Shelby boys were very familiar with.

The track had been owned and operated by the Lee family for as long as it had existed, Erasmus Lee, the oldest living family member still sat out front and sold tickets on busy nights. The kids grew up working the concession stands, and the adults managed the books.

The track wasn't a place for everyone, you had to love the roar and rumble of an engine, and put up with the desert heat, but it had fiercely loyal fans, of which the Shelbys were a part of.

At this point, the races had ended and unsurprisingly, Thomas Shelby in his custom 1967 Camaro had won first place. The Shelby boys were hanging back, drinking beer and celebrating their sound win against Billy Kimber. They were congregated behind the track, where the Camaro was, talking about the race and jabbing at the losers.

They weren't alone, the Shelby followers were also in attendance. The small group of guys that followed the racing talent of Thomas Shelby and the general reputation of the Shelby family, were gathered around the boys, joining in the conversation, especially when it came to trash-talking Tommy's competition. If it ever came down to it, and a fight had broken out at the track, the followers would have jumped right in to fight alongside the Shelby brothers.

Some people in Elko considered this following, to be evidence of gang behavior. Especially with the violent reputation the Shelby brothers had on their own, to draw others into that world put some people on edge, and was one reason most people didn't mess with the Shelbys. Because if they ever had reason, they always got revenge, and they had a willing crew to help them carry it out.

The Lee family weren't technically considered a member of the Shelby posse, they considered themselves their own entity, as an equal to the Shelby family. However, due to the close relationship with the Shelbys over their track constantly being used by the best racer in the tri-county area, they were sometimes lumped into that group. Especially since they weren't notorious in their own right, like the Shelbys were.

Of course some of the younger men had gotten rowdy on occasion and gotten into fights that needed breaking up, or had gotten a DUI or two, meriting themselves a short lock-up period, but no member of the family had truly ever been arrested for anything other than a small misdemeanor or a slap on the wrist. Whereas the Shelby family had a long line of notorious law-breakers.

Some of the Lee family took the unjust grouping into the Shelby gang personally, and none more so than the eldest Lee boy, Parker, who was constantly stirring up trouble with the Shelby boys.

The whole town kept their distance and never rocked the boat when it came to a Shelby, but Parker always tried to see how far he could push it. He considered himself above the Shelby vengeance because he had something they needed: a race track.

At this point Parker was amongst the Shelbys, drinking and celebrating Tommy's win. Parker had some of his own friends with him, guys he'd grown up with. Slowly over the course of the time, the Shelby followers had drifted off, going home to sleep off their alcohol and testosterone highs, leaving only the Lees and the Shelbys left at the track, still drinking and shooting the breeze.

Arthur mentioned the treacherous turn Tommy had made in the middle of the race, in where he'd lost control momentarily, causing Billy Kimber to pass him and lose his lead. It hadn't mattered because Tommy had soundly came up on Billy and passed him later on in the race, going on to his victory. But, Arthur was at the point in the evening when his drunken, big mouth started to cause problems. So when Arthur brought up the subject of the messy turn, he'd placed the blame on the track itself.

"That fuckin' shit track was what done you in, Tommy!" Arthur bellowed, causing John to laugh.

"I know it! There's as many bumps in there as a Goldies girl's twat!" John added, which caused both brothers to lose it.

Parker had heard what Arthur and John had to say about his family's track, and was not happy. He spit out his dip infused spit, before speaking. "I wouldn't be talking shit about Goldies, if I was a Shelby." he told his own friends.

Tommy had heard this, as he was standing just a foot from Parker's side. He turned to look in Parker's direction, curious to see if he would continue.

One of Parker's friends had chuckled at Parker's comment, causing him to go on. "It's common knowledge they're regular customers," He told his friends. "So it must not be too bumpy for them to slide their dicks in"

"Just like it's not too bumpy for Tommy to ride his Camaro around," Parker's friend commented. Tommy had now turned his head away, but was still closely listening to their conversation, taking in every comment and jab, calculating it all in his head.

"Ha! Tommy and the rest of the Shelby's slid out of a rough old cunt. They should like it rough and bumpy." Parker returned.

Tommy took the jab at his mother, and felt his fist involuntarily tense. But before he was able to act Arthur made it very clear that he had heard Parker's blatant insult to their mother's propriety.

"What the fucking hell did you just say?!" Arthur bellowed in a drunken rage. John, who was right beside him, stepped up next to him, as Arthur advanced on Parker and his group of friends. Tommy made no move to follow, but did refrain from leaning against his car as his brothers initiated an altercation.

Parker's friends, visibly shrunk back as Arthur stood up toe to toe with their leader. But Parker didn't back down.

"I don't know. What are you referring to?" Parker asked Arthur, staying calm. Two of his friends saw his grace under the pressure and gained the confidence to back up their buddy, stepping up to flank his sides.

John saw this and clenched his fists as he nudged his brother's side, queuing him in that he was ready at any moment. Arthur, whose face was redder than the brake lights of his brother's car, was about to burst when Tommy stepped up to involve himself in the equation.

"I think my drunken brother missed the beginning of your conversation about whores and the clap, but he did overhear you insinuate that our mother belonged with that group." Tommy told Parker, staring him down, no emotion on his face.

"Well, who could miss that loud mouth of his, _insinuating_ , that my track was jacked up and caused you to lose your precious lead?" Parker returned, full of anger.

"The fuck do you think you are?!" Arthur yelled, ready to charge, but Tommy held him back.

"The fuck I think, I, am? Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Parker spat back, his two friends gearing up for a fight, while the others slunk back, retreating to leave.

"You owe us an apology." Tommy told Parker, no humor and no anger in his voice.

"You owe our mother an apology, shit bag!" John shouted.

"Well I'm not a fucking liar!" Parker retorted, hot. "Everyone knows your dumbass of a father met your momma at a whore house!"

Tommy silently reached into his pocket and pulled out his blade, switching it open. "I don't give a fuck what you've heard about my father. You owe me and my brothers an apology." Tommy calmly informed Parker.

Parker faltered in his resolve, seeing Tommy's switchblade, ready to go. But his masculine pride beat out his fight or flight instinct and he charged at Tommy, his friends following, creating a full out brawl.

Arthur swung at one man, while John pummeled the other, and Tommy sparred with Parker. The poor man going against Arthur was down in an instant, Arthur on top of him, pummelling over and over, the man fighting just to survive. John's opponent held up against the younger Shelby boy, blocking and ducking from the swings of his fists. Parker and Tommy were slightly less violent, in the sense that there weren't many fists flying back and forth, but it was certainly more bloody, thanks to Tommy's signature switchblade.

Back when Tommy was in high school, he'd gotten into lots of trouble with that switchblade, even gotten arrested once with his best buddy, Freddie, who'd also carried around a switchblade. It had become his signature fight move to pull out a blade, especially back when he and Freddie still had each other's backs.

So Parker knew better than to start something with Tommy. So after Tommy had enough of cutting Parker's face and arms to shreds, he backed off, letting Parker recover and get back on his feet. Tommy knew better than to cut deep, that was what landed you in jail and kept you there. So all of Parker's injuries were superficial, but he had enough of them for it to burn like hell, and made him want it to be over.

Tommy put away his blade, watching Parker inspect his injuries and refrain from coming back at him, before he called his brothers off Parker's crew. They retreated to Parker's side, watching closely at the Shelby boys, to see if they made any sudden moves.

Parker turned and spit out blood, holding up an arm that had blood trickling down it, extending his finger at Tommy. "You." He swore, taking a dramatic breath. "Get your piece of shit out of here." He told him, referring to the Shelby Camaro.

Arthur made a move to charge at Parker but Tommy put up an arm, stopping his brother. He didn't say anything, just stared at Parker in silence.

"Don't you think you're coming back here!" Parker shouted, hurt pride beaming. "I don't care! You're not welcome at this track, Thomas Shelby! Never again! You think you own this damn town. Everyone thinks you're a goddamn hero, but you're not. You're a thug, Tommy Shelby! A thug!"

Thomas stood and let Parker speak. When he was finished, Tommy looked at him silently for a while before sticking his hands in his jeans pockets and turned to get his car, no emotion ever crossing his features.

His brothers got into their own car, the Shelby group disbanding, while Tommy got into his Challenger. He revved the engine, slowing pulling out, but stopped in front of where Parker and his crew were still standing, he leaned out the window as he addressed the gang.

"You still owe my brothers an apology." He told Parker, seemingly unfazed at the idea of never being able to race again at the Elko Track. His eyes bored into Parker's skull before he sped off, spewing sharp pebbles and leaving the men in a cloud of dust.

…

Next to the west side train tracks was an old tavern that had been around since the 1800s when gold mining had been in its boom. It was a dark grungy bar, and wasn't ever particularly crowded. Known as the Silver Dollar Saloon, it had pool tables and darts in the back and a healthy supply of the town's most downtrodden. One curious thing about the place was that the Shelby boys hardly ever frequented. Which was why their only sister, Ada Shelby, loved going there.

Ada was seated at the end of the bar, sipping on a jack and coke. She had on cutoff shorts, a black tank top, and black boots. She had her eyes fixed on a tall gentleman bent over the pool table. He hit his stick against the white cue ball, sinking his shot.

Ada pouted her lips and picked up her glass, downing the rest of her drink, before getting up to walk over towards the pool player. She leaned up against the table, next to the player. "You gonna knock your balls around all night, chasing those holes?" She asked him, smirking up at the man.

The man, Freddie Thorne, looked down at Ada and gave her a patronizing look. "Do you hate on everything a man loves? Sports,... cars,... pool?" He asked her.

"No, I just don't like the things my brothers like." She told him. "And right now, I don't like this game of pool." She added as Freddie stepped back to circle the table watching his opponent line up his next shot.

"And what's wrong with this particular game?" Freddie asked Ada, who twisted around to pout at him.

"Because it's distracting you from me." She crossly informed him.

Freddie smirked, "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten ignoring a Shelby is a cardinal sin in this town." He responded, teasing Ada, knowing she wouldn't take that comment well.

Ada reacted just as Freddie had expected, by standing up straight and glaring up at him. "Don't you even try to lump me in with my brothers." She warned him.

Freddie chuckled, "And yet, you have the same reaction." He told her, stepping back to avoid any sudden moves from her in retaliation.

"Look, do you want this fuck to happen or not?" She replied, resting her hand on her hip, which was jutted out.

"Why rush into things? Take it slow, the anticipation is half the fun, you know." Freddie responded, calmly walking around the table to set up his next shot.

Ada rolled her eyes and sighed in disapproval as her response. She bit on the inside of her lip, plotting her next move. The sudden sound of music broke the low din of bar noise, as someone flipped on the old jukebox in the back corner and the twang of guitar strings caught Ada's attention, the wheels turning in her head.

She spotted a young gentleman seated alone at the other end of the bar, talking with the bartender and grinned. She took a last look at Freddie , who was now bent over the table, lining up his shot, paying little notice to the young woman vying for his attention, before she crossed the floor and approached the young man in a stetson.

She leaned up against the bar beside him and eyed him up and down. "I wanna dance." She told him, pouting her lips. "And I don't have anyone to dance with." She added.

The young man cautiously eyed Ada, before standing up and taking her hand to lead her towards the old jukebox. Ada grinned and focused all her attention on her dance partner, letting the music take her. She got real close, rubbing up against him before flipping around and letting her long brown hair fly around her. The tempo was fast enough she could shimmy and grind enough to catch the attention of most of the tavern's patrons.

The one patron she had been trying to tease had finished his pool game after her third song, and watched as Ada moved, shaking her ass and grinding up on the man she'd chosen to dance with. He walked up to the bar and ordered himself a beer, taking a seat and starting to talk to the bartender, paying as little attention as he could to Ada's antics.

He knew exactly what she was doing and was not planning on falling for it. He'd grown up with the Shelbys, and knew just how conniving and manipulative they could be. He'd once been the best of friends with Ada's older brother, Tommy, who was the most brilliant at getting people to do what he wanted. And despite Ada's adamant stance on not being like her brothers she happened to have that personality trait in common.

Ada had noticed Freddie's lack of attention, and after the end of her song, she grabbed her dance partner by the hand and led him to the bar, stopping right beside where Freddie was seated.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so thirsty after all of that," Ada told her new friend, tracing his jaw with her finger tip as she spoke. She turned to the bar tender, turning her back to Freddie and ordered herself another Jack and Coke.

"Let me get that for you, hon." The young gentleman offered, ordering himself a beer in the process. Ada giggled and thanked him, scooting a bar stool next to his.

Freddie smirked and sighed to himself. Inside he wanted to scream, but he kept telling himself it was all a game. He was not going to let a woman get him into a bar fight. Even if that woman was Ada Shelby.

Ada giggled and flirted with her new partner for quite a while before nature came knocking and the gentleman had to excuse himself to the bathroom for a quick leak. Ada took the time to check her lipstick and made sure not to look Freddie's way, despite wanting to check his reaction to all her efforts.

Freddie made sure she didn't have to by speaking straight to her, "You know, if you want to fuck me, you're going to have to start sending some of your over-the-top flirtatious bullshit in my direction. Otherwise I guess you're going home with that… Beanpole, instead." He said, searching for an insult.

Ada haughtily responded, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Thorne. I happen to be extremely interested in this guy."

Freddie stared into Ada's eyes, wanting to catch her bluff. Ada stared right back. Freddie clenched his jaw, seeing no sign of a lie in her eyes. On one hand, he knew Ada was an excellent liar. But on the other hand if it was true… He suppressed the urge to throw chairs and make a scene over the woman taking such pleasure in toying with his emotions.

Instead, he stood up, just as the gentleman came back to her side. He gulped down the last of his beer and slapped his payment on the bar. "Well you two have a great night." He said to the man, nodding his head in his direction before walking away.

Ada bit the inside of her lip and felt an arm wrap around her to pull her close. She looked up at her previous dance partner and turned up her nose. She pushed herself away, screaming at him. "What the fuck?!" Do you think I'm some piece of ass?"

The bartender worriedly watched the situation as Ada picked up her drink and flung it at the poor, confused man, angrily setting her glass back on the bar, and sauntering off. She left the situation behind as she swung the tavern door open to the night. She 'miraculously' composed herself instantly and scanned the gravel parking lot for a rusted pickup truck. Lights flashed on from across the lot and She headed in that direction just as the truck started to pull out. She ran after it, yelling and waving her arms.

Freddie noticed her antics and rolled his eyes sighing. He backed up to meet her and rolled his window down. "What? Did he refuse to pay the bill?" He asked, annoyed.

"No… He got grabby." She pouted.

Freddie raised his eyebrow in response and looked at Ada, unimpressed. Ada impatiently bobbed up and down.

"Oh, come on. Don't be a sore loser. You know I was going home with you anyway." She added, sticking her hands on her hips.

Freddie sighed, leaning over to the passenger door and unlocked it, causing a grin to spread across Ada's face. She hopped around the truck and jumped up into her seat as Freddie pealed out.

"I'm not a sore loser. I'm the one you're going home with. That makes me the winner." He told her as they traveled back towards his apartment. Ada huffed in response and slid up next to him, curled up by his side.

As they reached his complex, and he parked his truck in his designated spot, she craned her neck up to land a sensual kiss on his neck as her hands traveled across his chest, bunching up his t shirt. She moved so she was practically straddling his lap, but then her butt hit the steering wheel and she accidentally laid on the horn.

"Oops!" She said, climbing back beside him. "Those skanks Tommy get make that look so easy." She told him, embarrassed.

Freddie laughed. "It's probably because they do it so often." He remarked, and made Ada giggle, easing the tension. "Besides, we can go inside, where there's a perfectly good bed to do that. No brothers to tease you, or Aunts to give you disappointed stares. Which is probably why Tommy does his business in his car." Freddie added, opening his door, and taking Ada's hand to help her down.

She grinned and followed him to the door, waiting patiently as he unlocked it before attacking him as soon as it closed.

…

Just as dawn's light started to peek out along the sky above Elko, a team of local police and a special force of DEA agents were travelling together. They were in route to arrest a suspected supplier of ecstasy to the high school. It was a case that the local police had been dabbling with over the past few years, but had never been a priority. But now that the DEA had moved into town, being led by Chester Campbell, all the drug related cases that the Elko Police Department had been investigating had suddenly become a number one priority.

This particular case had been one slipping through the cracks for quite a while. Mostly due to payoffs and good-old-boy operations in the EPD. Everyone knew exactly who was supplying party drugs to the teenagers, the same guy that had done it when he was in high school himself. There had been a few overdoses lately, but no deaths, so the investigations petered along, with evidence occasionally and mysteriously disappearing or changing.

But Chester Campbell considered it his personal mission to rid this town of what he called the sin and temptation of illegal substances. Pious and self righteous, Campbell had been called into Elko as a special task force as a direct order from the DEA administrator herself.

Back at DEA headquarters, the agency had been deep in an investigation of the Jalisco Cartel and their drug smuggling and distribution. They'd planted moles in the organization and spent years working on destroying it. They had gotten close several times, but had never been as close as they had been until now. They knew there was a way the organization was smuggling their supply up north, but couldn't figure out how.

The reason the entire operation had landed in Elko was due to a missing shipment of cocaine. A large order,with an estimated street value of almost $500,000, was scheduled to travel to Washington and Oregon for distribution. The DEA had been tracking their known accomplices, trying to figure out who else was in the chain of command and how the product was being smuggled. But somewhere along the line the federal agents had lost track of it.

It had last been in the hands of a Chico Medeiros in the southern part of Nevada, last the DEA agents knew, but somehow had changed hands without their knowledge. So the DEA had come in full-force into a few different northern Nevada towns to try and figure out if it had already passed through, and if so how.

Because of this, Campbell had investigated every miniscule drug charge in the city of Elko since his arrival. He'd learned about a few notorious groups and individuals, and had taken it upon himself to not only find the missing cocaine shipment, but rid the city of all of its drug problems. Which was why he went with the force headed out to arrest the ecstasy dealer. He had a good feeling this man was going to open up a lot of information had a lot to do with what was going on with the Jalisco Cartel, due to his own connections and notoriety in the city. Campbell wasn't thinking this was going to turn his case around on the dot, but it was definitely going to point him in the right direction.

The DEA agents and EPD officers stationed themselves around the apartment complex and waited for Campbell's call to initiate. He lifted up his radio to speak, "Now."

The scene erupted into chaos. Officers yelling commands, busting down the door, and onlookers scrambling and screaming. The accused was still in bed, not a stitch of clothing on his body. His reaction to being swarmed by uniformed officers and having his home burst into was not positive. He immediately grabbed for his gun under his mattress and fired off shots, before fully realizing what he was doing. His partner was screaming and cowering behind him, desperately trying to cover her own indecency as she woke up to realize what was happening around her.

The officers took caution after the man's violent reaction. They radioed back to Campbell, who was listening in.

"Shots fired! No officers down!"

Campbell gritted his teeth and barked out an order, "Return fire!"

"There is a civilian with the suspect." Came a reply.

Campbell roared back, "Take precaution, get that person out of there, I don't want hostages!"

The agents complied, inching closer, and using their tactical shields to ward off any more gunfire, but the suspect had laid down his gun when he realized it wasn't a burglar intruding in his home, but rather police officers. However, that didn't mean he was going down without a fight. He leaped across the bedroom, wedged the window open, and grabbed a pocketknife off his nightstand to rip open the screen before wiggling his way out. The woman with him, tried to follow, wrapping herself in sheets, and tripping as she tried to run off.

"Suspect attempting to flee, civilian following suit." Came through the radio to Campbell.

He pounded his fist down, in anger, on the hood of the cruiser he was standing in front of. "Fucking pursue! I want them both arrested! God dammit!" He growled in response.

The still naked suspect turned to try and help his companion, who had tripped over her bed sheets, and in the moment, the officers on the outside swarmed around the corner, headed straight towards the couple from both sides.

The man glanced out in front of him and made one last ditch effort to escape, running straight ahead. He only made it a few feet before a sharp pain tore at the flesh on his back, and he fell to the dead grass, shaking with uncontrollable convulsions.

The woman screamed, crumpling to the ground, as officers swarmed around both her and her lover, who had been tazed in front of her.

"Put your hands in the air!" An officer shouted at the woman. She looked up confused, terror written on her face. Her lower lip trembled, and she wrapped the sheet around her tighter.

"Hands in the air, or we're going to shoot!" He repeated, advancing slowly on her with pointed guns. The man had already been grabbed, and hands pulled behind his back to handcuff him. "I'm not going to ask you again, Ma'am!" He yelled.

"I'm fucking naked!" She yelled back finally finding her voice. "I'm not showing you bastards my fucking tits!"

The officers were taken back, momentarily washed with guilt. But the same one that had addressed her before, spoke again, "We just need to see your hands, miss."

The man laying in front of her thrashed about in the grasp of the officers, refusing to go down without a fight. He rolled over before the cuffs had been completely administered. He reached up and punched the officer above him square in the jaw. He started screaming, a high-pitched scream, almost in-human.

What happened next surprised all of the officers present. The man reached up and grabbed two of the other officers and cracked their skulls together, knocking them out cold, before hastily scrambling on his feet and grabbing another officer, kneeing him in the crotch. That officer sunk to the ground in pain. Only a few seconds passed before the other officers reacted to the crazed man and tazed him again. They wasted no time in cuffing him, and another officer sat on his back, pressing his knee into his back, and smashing his head into the ground to hold him in place.

The woman, after witnessing the spectacle, shot her hands up in the air. Her blankets fell around her, but she sat still, waiting to the remaining officers to surround her and properly arrest her.

Campbell waited until the woman was safely procured in the back of one of the squad cars before walking around the complex to where his men had informed him his suspect was restrained.

He shook his head in disdain as he walked, disgusted with the spectacle that had arose. He made his way to where his officers were stationed, suspect subdued.

"Let him go. He's already cuffed, right?" Campbell asked his men. The suspect's breathing was still rapid, but slowing down. He could only see Campbell's shoes in the position he was in currently. The officer on top of him climbed off and he rose up enough to look up at Campbell's face.

Campbell knelt down beside his suspect to be at eye level, "Mister Thorne." He addressed his perpetrator. "You and your lady friend are going to be spending some time with me tonight." He told him, a sick grin playing on his face. He rose back up, satisfied with his gloating.

"Book 'em!"

…

Back at the county jail, Campbell sat in his newly appointed office, overseeing the booking process of his two arrestees. He was looking over his computer monitor at Freddie Thorne's history and convictions when a knock at his door diverted his attention.

"Officer Stanley!" Campbell greeted him, welcoming him into his office.

"Sir, I…" He trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with what he was trying to say. "I just thought you may be interested to know the woman you arrested was Ada Shelby." He spit out.

Campbell stared blankly at him. "What knowledge is that to me?" He asked him, cocking his head to the side, mocking Stanley.

"Well, sir, it's just that, well... " He stammered, causing Campbell to sigh.

"Out with it man!" Campbell bellowed.

"Ada is the only sister of the Shelby family. And I'd heard you had interrogated the eldest Shelby brother a week or so back." He told his new superior.

Campbell furrowed his brows in response, the wheels turning in his head, as Stanley continued with his information.

"It's going to be public knowledge real soon that you arrested their sister. The Shelby's are… Well they're special around here. Arthur and Tommy are Iraqi veterans. Tommy's got the Navy Cross!" Stanley said, his voice sounding part apprehensive, part proud.

"And yet their sister is parading around naked with a known drug dealer!" Campbell retorted, mocking surprise, unimpressed with the Shelby reputation.

"Well… Yes… But I thought you might also want to know that rumor around is that the Shelby boys were just in a scrape last weekend with the Lee family." Stanley came back. "The Lee's own the racing track."

Campbell grimaced. "I'm sick of hearing about the soap opera that is the Shelby family! I already beat the shit out of the eldest boy and he didn't know a damn thing about our missing cocaine." He retorted, wanting this interaction to be over so he could go back to focusing on Thorne.

"I just thought you'd want to know, sir." Stanley responded, understanding Campbell was done with the conversation. He stayed quiet for a moment, but couldn't hold in his information any longer. "You do know Freddie Thorne used to be best friends with Tommy Shelby, right? They were both arrested in high school for fighting. They served together, sir."

"I don't give a fuck about the Shelby's, Stanley!" Campbell roared, reiterating his feelings.

"They say the Lee's banned Tommy from racing at the track anymore! Tommy was the one that initiated the fight, they say. Some say he's gonna go race anyway." Stanley continued on anyway.

Campbell was interrupted from bursting a blood vessel when another officer came into his office, papers in hand.

"Sir, we've finished booking both Mister Thorne and Miss Shelby." Officer Hughes informed Campbell, handing over paperwork.

Campbell sighed, choosing to ignore officer Stanley, and focus on the officer giving him relevant information. "Did you run the toxicology reports?" He asked, flipping through the papers.

"Yes, sir. We took both urine and blood samples. The blood is currently being processed, but Thorne's already tested positive for amphetamines. Miss Shelby's urinalysis came up negative for any substance." He informed Campbell, who looked up from the forms in his hands to glance up at the officer speaking to him.

"What makes you sound apprehensive?" He asked.

"Well, sir… Miss Shelby's tested positive for pregnancy, sir." The officer informed.

Campbell didn't have to look at Stanley to sense his surprise. He peeked out of the corner of his eye at Stanley, whose eyes had gone wide, and had also brought a hand up to cover his mouth.

"She's already asked for her phone call, sir. She wants to speak with her aunt." The officer told Campbell. "I'm surprised she didn't ask for Tommy, though." He added.

Campbell's eyes snapped back to the other officer, noticing his reverent tone for Tommy Shelby. He narrowed his gaze, before looking back at the papers in his hand.

"It's a Saturday, gentlemen. It won't matter, no bond can be posted until Monday morning." Campbell told both men.

"But, sir! Ada's pregnant. We can't keep her in there with the drunks, and junkies!" The officer responded, aghast.

"She's a criminal. Resisting arrest. Or would you suggest I drop her charges purely because she's Arthur Shelby's little sister?" Campbell returned.

Both Stanley and Hughes turned to look at each other silently. Both knowing how crooked and wrong it was for them to want her to go scott free. But at the same time, they knew she was a Shelby. And the Shelby boys were not going to be happy about her being stuck in jail over the weekend.

"Sir, Arthur isn't the one you need to worry about." Stanley responded.

"It's Tommy that runs the family, sir." Hughes added.

This took Campbell by surprise. The wheels started to spin in head, starting to see the big picture for what it really was. It was the entire reason Officer Stanley and Officer Hughes had come to tell him this information about the Shelby's in the first place. He'd stupidly interrogated the wrong brother.

Campbell, now flustered by being discovered a fool over the Shelby information, became angry with his subordinates and started bossing them around.

"Stanley, since you're so fond of the Shelbys, perhaps you should ask your friend, Thomas Shelby if he would like to talk with us and clear the air for his sister." Campbell spat out, piously. "Officer Hughes, you may finish processing both Miss Shelby and Mister Thorne. I will keep these records for now."

Both men looked uneasy, but obeyed orders, and slunk off to do their jobs, leaving Campbell alone in his office. He stared at Freddie Thorne's mugshot that was paper clipped to the paper file in his hands, before setting it down on his desk and turning back to his computer.

He typed in Thomas Shelby's name, and pulled up his file. A serious-looking mugshot stared back at him. He looked it over for a bit, trying to penetrate into the baby blue eyes of the mysterious Shelby brother.

Campbell started speaking to himself out loud, "Well, Mister Thomas… I think you and I are going to get very well acquainted."

…

It was late afternoon by the time Officer Stanley had gathered the courage to drive out to the Shelby junkyard. After leaving Campbell's office, he'd spend a couple hours at the Donut Hut, eating his favorite bavarian filled long johns and drinking enough coffee to make him just a bit jittery.

He finally left and made up his mind to get it over with, hoping that Tommy wouldn't shoot the messenger. He knew Tommy was likely already in in a sour mood after his altercation with the Lees and his current predicament with them. So Stanley's driving over to tell him that his sister had now been arrested, found butt ass naked in bed with his former best friend, was not likely to cheer him up.

Officer Stanley was technically on pretty good terms with the Shelbys, he was one of their go-to-guys when they needed things to be hush-hush, or needed the police to overlook something. And he wouldn't deny, at least to himself, that the money they gave him to do so wasn't hurting either.

But he was still afraid of Tommy. John was a nuisance, didn't trust cops and could get pretty rowdy about it; Arthur was mostly just a drunken fool at this point, wasn't a total delinquent, just tended to make bad decisions after drinking too much; but Tommy was different, he was smart. He didn't just cut you up and wag his finger in your face if you upset him, he made sure your life became a living hell. He'd hit you where it hurt most.

So Officer Stanley was very apprehensive to deliver this bad news to the middle Shelby brother. He was afraid that despite being the best buddy of the family for years, it would come back to bite him in the ass. Tommy had the power to expose him as a dirty cop, and strip him of his badge. And even if that didn't happen, Tommy could still make his life very difficult.

When Stanley got up to the end of the drive he had to make the decision to either try the house or head to the garage. Polly would likely be at the house and would know the whereabouts of each of her nephews, but Stanley knew Tommy spent most of his time in the garage rather than the house. And he was the one he needed to talk to.

He rounded the corner and parked in front of the garage. He could see in the open bay that Tommy was bent over the front of his his brother's 1985 Pontiac Firebird, and it looked like it's owner, John, was lying underneath.

Stanley cursed his luck. He'd hoped to meet with Tommy alone. And of all the other Shelby brothers to deal with additionally, John was his least favorite pick. John already hated law enforcement, and was sure news of his baby sister getting arrested was not going to sway him to his side.

As he stepped out of his cruiser, swinging his door closed, Tommy continued to work on the engine of his car, undisturbed, but John swung the creeper he was laying on out from under the car, and sat up to look at Stanley. Stanley gulped in apprehension at the look John gave him.

"Tommy! How's it going?" Stanley called out, trying to act chummy as he walked up to meet the boys.

John sat up, getting off his creeper, and walked over to his brother, who had yet to turn around and acknowledge Stanley's presence. He leaned back against the grill of the car and reached for the token cigarette he always kept tucked behind his right ear and lighting it before taking a long drag.

John glanced sideways at his brother, but Tommy was still engrossed in his work. John exhaled a cloud of smoke and addressed Stanley himself.

"What the fuck are you doing around here?" He asked, disdain dripping on his words.

Stanley took a deep breath and started, "Well, boys… I've got some bad news for you." He spoke, slowly, dreading what was coming.

"We're not kids, you old codger." John responded, and Stanley gulped again.

"No, I know that. I'm sorry... " He started, trying to reign in the conversation, and keep it from going down the negative path it was seeming to take. Internally Stanley wanted to scream at Tommy. Why wasn't he paying attention? He didn't seem to mind at all, perfectly content to stay in his own little world, tinkering on his car.

Stanley's thoughts were interrupted by Tommy who'd chosen to turn around. He held what looked like a small piece of the engine in his hands, polishing it with a stained rag. "What can we do for you, Stanley?" He asked the officer, calmly.

Stanley studied the piercing blue eyes that were looking back at him, trying to figure out what kind of mood Tommy was in, but couldn't get past Tommy's poker face.

"Um… Yes... " Stanley responded, clearing his throat, and trying to sound authoritative. "I've got bad news for you, Tommy."

"What news is that?" Tommy asked, looking slightly bored with the conversation.

"It's your sister, Ada…. She's… Well, she was found with Freddie Thorne this morning." Stanley started, releasing small bits of the bad story a little at a time.

"Found with Freddie?" John interrupted, "You mean, found as in…. Screwing him?" He asked, not believing what he was hearing.

This information seemed to interest Tommy, who had laid down the engine part he was rubbing on, and gave Stanley his full attention, leaning back on his car's bumper and crossing his arms.

"Well, she was found naked in bed with him… And he was also naked…" Stanley replied, trying to remain tactful.

"Why does the police know this information?" Tommy asked, cutting straight to the point Stanley was trying to dance around.

"Well… Um… That's that thing, Tommy…" Stanley stammered, looking at the ground.

Tommy felt like reaching out and strangling the man. He had clearly come all the way out here for a reason, and yet he was trying to dance all around it. Plus the fact that he'd driven all the way out here in his damn police cruiser, flashing to everyone that the police were making a visit to the Shelby's was not something Tommy was fond of either. But he kept his cold, expressionless poker face in check.

"Ada was arrested this morning." Stanley finally dropped the truth. "With Freddie." He added.

Instead of a dramatic pause, like Stanley had expected, John immediately questioned Stanley. "Arrested for what?" John asked him.

"Resisting arrest." Officer Stanley replied.

"My sister was arrested, for resisting her arrest?" Tommy asked, not mocking the man with a toying tone, but rather repeating the statement, not understanding how that was a possibility, which to Stanley was much worse.

"Well, Freddie is the one in trouble. She was just with him and trying to flee the scene. Wasn't cooperating…" Stanley tried explaining.

John cut him off, "Of course my sister is fucking fleeing the scene! She's not a part of it if Freddie's the one getting arrested!"

"Well, it's considered impeding justice…" Stanley meekly offered.

"You drove all the way out here to tell me this?" Tommy asked him, motioning towards his cruiser. "In that car, to tell me my sister is in jail?"

"Well…" Stanley stammered, turning to look at his car, guiltily.

Tommy, being pleased with Stanley feeling sheepish and fearful at his actions, dug for more information. "What was Freddie charged with?"

"Possession and distribution of narcotics." Stanley came back, somewhat pleased the conversation was turning away from his own incompetence.

John started laughing. Tommy turned to shoot him a dirty look, and John stopped, but clearly wanted to keep going and rag on his brother's former friend.

"So my sister is guilty by association?" Tommy asked, raising his eyebrows, making it seem like he was blaming Officer Stanley for her arrest. Of course Tommy knew Stanley wouldn't ever do that. More than likely Stanley would have tried distracting the others or at least suggest dropping her charges, especially if the charges were only resisting arrest.

But it still made Stanley squirm, which was Tommy's intended effect.

"No, Tommy. It's Detective Campbell. He's tearing up the whole town in efforts to get rid of the drugs. He's the head of the DEA initiative here in Elko." Stanley tried explaining. He saw Tommy's unimpressed face before adding, "He's the one that beat up Arthur."

John threw up his hands in the air in exasperation. "What? Does he have something against the fucking Shelby's or what?" He asked, becoming angry.

"I don't know, John… I'm just the messenger." Stanley responded, trying to alleviate the tension.

"Is that why you came out here? To tell me my sister's been arrested by the same man that kidnapped and interrogated my brother about some sort of drug deal?" Tommy asked, stepping over John's flared emotions.

"Well, yes… Because you deserve to know what's going on, Tommy." Stanley offered.

"But,..." Tommy replied, ready to cut to the chase.

"Campbell wants to meet with you." Stanley interrupted.

"What?! No fucking way!" John interrupted, upset. "Don't trust a cop, Tommy." He said, turning to his brother. "Especially after he arrested our sister!"

Tommy held up a hand, to calm and silence his younger brother. He paused and looked up from the ground, where he'd been contemplating everything, to stare into Stanley.

"I will think about it." He replied simply. Stanley made moves to rebuttal, but Tommy spoke again, cutting him off. "Thank you for giving me the information on my sister."

Tommy turned back to his car, and picked up the piece he'd been working on. Making it clear he was done with Officer Stanley, and he'd best leave. John folded his arms, upset, as he watched Stanley back away and get in his car, driving down the gravel road and leaving.

"You're not going to meet with him, are you Tommy?" John asked.

"I might. It depends." Tommy replied.

"Depends on what?" John replied, not understanding why Tommy would even contemplate it.

"Don't worry about it, John. What you need to do is go tell Aunt Pol, Ada's in jail. We're going to have to bail her out." Tommy told his brother. Ending the discussion, and pushing his brother off so he could think about his decision alone.

…

On Monday morning, as soon as the judge was able to put the paperwork through, Ada Shelby was released from jail. The guard came to tell her she'd posted bail, and led her out of her shared cell and to the office to collect her belongings.

Ada had never been arrested before, and never been to jail. So she wasn't sure where she was going or doing. She was just following orders. So when she was given a bundle of sheets that she recognised as the ones she'd wrapped herself up in when she'd been arrested. She realized they were giving back her personal effects. And those sheets were the only things she'd had when she was arrested.

She leaned up to the glass window separating her from the officer finishing her paperwork. "I don't have to leave this uniform, do I?" She asked, seriously unnerved at the idea of having to leave the jail in nothing but these sheets, and having to find a way home.

The woman looked up from her paperwork as if Ada were the dumbest person she'd ever met. "Yes you have to leave the uniform. It's not a keepsake."

"But I don't have any clothes. I came in here in these sheets!" Ada replied, shaking the bundle in her hands at the woman.

"What?" The woman asked, turning around to the man that had led Ada up to her. "You didn't give her the clothes her brother brought?" She asked him and he shrugged before sneaking out the door. The woman sighed, tired of dealing with incompetence around her.

Ada stood still, her eyes wide, and her heart pounding. Her brother. Her brother had brought clothes. Her brother was here.

"Fuck me," Ada groaned, knowing full well this meant a long car ride home. "Please let it be Arthur, please." She prayed. Arthur would be the easiest to deal with. He wouldn't prod about why she was naked and with Freddie. He'd be too embarrassed to ask his baby sister about her sex life. John on the other hand would be her second choice. He'd tease and rib at her the whole way home, but it could be tolerable. But most of all, she hoped and prayed it wasn't Tommy. "Dear god, don't let it be Tommy." She added.

The woman behind the glass turned back to Ada and pressed the button to release the door lock, letting her go through, back into the world a free woman.

"Your brother still has your clothes. You can use the bathroom in the waiting area to change. Just hand me your jumper through the window when you're done." The lady told Ada, instructing her to walk out.

Ada fidgeted for a moment before taking a breath and walking through the door. On the other side was a waiting room that looked as dismal as any she'd ever seen. And standing across the room was her brother, Tommy, waiting for her.

Ada deflated. Tommy locked eyes with her across the room and she slumped her shoulders, knowing the worst was yet to come. She felt like throwing a tantrum, and kicking her feet, pouting. But she refrained and walked towards her brother. He held out a bundle of clothes and she snatched it up, glaring at him.

Once safely in the bathroom she unrolled the clothes. Thankfully there was underwear included. _Polly must have packed it._ Ada thought, and pulled on her clothes, shedding her jumpsuit. She looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. Her makeup was mostly rubbed off, and her hair was a complete rat nest. _Oh well. Not like there's anyone to show off for around here._ She thought to herself.

Ada dropped off her jumpsuit and begrudgingly walked back over to Tommy. He didn't say anything. Just led her outside and to his car in silence.

They pulled out of the parking lot and were traveling down the road in complete silence, save for the rumble of Tommy's Hemi engine. Tommy finally broke the silence in the car and asked the question Ada had been dreading.

"So when were you going to tell me?" He asked, and Ada could tell he was clenching his jaw, despite trying to seem unconcerned.

Ada huffed, "Never. It's none of your business." She replied, crossing her arms and looking out her window away from her brother.

Tommy never skipped a beat. "Actually considering that I not only paid your bail to get you out of jail, but also paid your very expensive fine to the city for your arrest charges, it's become my business, Ada."

"Why do you suddenly care, Tommy?" Ada asked, turning on her brother. "You haven't given two shits about your so-called best friend since you came home, but now you care." She accused. "At least I'm trying to help him. I love him." She added, hot under the collar.

Tommy stared back at her, not responding in any way other than his hard stare. The stare Ada hated most of all. She couldn't be sure what he was thinking. Was he disappointed? Was he angry?

"Ada,..." Tommy began to speak, but Ada cut him off.

"No, Tommy! I mean it. You haven't even spoken to him in months, no real interaction since you both came back." Ada started, "Do you think he's okay with just doing drugs? Cause you may be fine, but he's not. He needs someone to look out for him, someone to check in. Someone to love him."

Tommy waited until Ada got out all she had to say before speaking again. "Ada, I'm not talking about your relationship. I'm talking about the baby."

Ada sat back, dumbfounded. "What the fuck are you talking about?" She asked, incredulous.

"Just promise me you're not doing drugs with him." Tommy spat out, hurried to get it out, as if it had been laying heavy on his chest for a while.

"What?! What baby are you talking about, Tommy?" Ada asked again, not sure what weird turn the conversation had taken.

Tommy took his eyes off the road again to turn and look at her. Searching her face for any tell-tale signs of lying. "You didn't even know…" He said, speaking more to himself than to his sister.

"Didn't know what, Tommy?" Ada asked again, edging on hysterical.

"The cops came to tell me you were in jail. Told me you were arrested with Freddie." Tommy told her.

"I figured." Ada said, crossing her arms in a huff.

"They also told me your tox screen came back negative for everything." He continued. "Everything that was illegal anyway."

"I am NOT doing drugs, Thomas Shelby!" Ada defended, getting heated again.

"They told me you were pregnant, Ada." Tommy told his sister, very seriously.

Ada sat back shocked. She was silent, stared out the windshield, dazed. Finally after a long moment she came back to herself.

"What the actual fuck?!" She shouted. "My own brother, and probably my entire family, not to mention all of god damned Elko knows I'm pregnant before me!"

Tears started to form in the corners of Ada's eyes. She wasn't sure if they were tears of sadness or rage. Thankfully they had reached home and just turned into the long drive. Ada manually pulled up the lock on her door and opened it, causing Tommy to slam on his breaks.

"Ada!" He yelled at her, angry not for her trying to jump out of the car. She'd done it many times before in arguments with her brother. He was angry because it was so dangerous in her current condition.

"Fuck off, Tommy!" She yelled, slamming the door in his face and stomping off down the drive. Tommy watched her walk in front of him for a while before he closed his eyes and sighed in annoyance. He pressed the gas and passed her, heading back to the house.

Obviously Tommy had beaten her to the house. Polly was waiting in the kitchen for Ada's return, and when she saw only Tommy walking in the door, she became upset.

"You didn't leave her." She accused. "Thomas!" She scolded, hand on her hips.

"She's walking up the drive." Tommy replied. "She decided she couldn't stand to be in the same car as me one second longer." He added.

John had come around the corner and snickered. "That's our sister." He piped in.

"Oh for god's sakes." Polly said, exasperated.

Tommy left the kitchen, leaving Polly to deal with the drama his sister had unfolded, and retreated out to the garage away from the house. Arthur was there, watching over Officer Stanley, who had been waiting for Tommy's return.

"She wasn't even told about it." Tommy informed both his brother and Officer Stanley.

Arthur, who was already stewing over the situation at hand and having to babysit Stanley while Tommy went to pick their sister up, bellowed. "What?! They left her in there all weekend and didn't even tell her?!"

Tommy only turned to look at his brother, not bothering to calm him down. He wanted Stanley to see his brother on verge of losing control. It would scare him into submission.

"Officer Stanley, do you understand why I've asked you here today?" Tommy asked him.

Stanley tried to remain calm as he answered, "Because you want me to get Freddie released too?" He asked, unsure of why Tommy had asked him to come all the way out to the Shelby Salvage Yard. He knew Ada had already been ordered released by the judge, so he wasn't sure what else he could do for the Shelby boys.

"No. Freddie has a serious offense. I'm not going to bother with that." Tommy responded, which caused Arthur to give him a funny look. "No, the reason I called you out here is for two things. One, I want you to tell Mister Campbell that I'm willing to meet with him and talk about his concerns over our city. And two, which you are not to tell Mister Campbell about, you are to report him to his superiors over the grave injustice he's forced upon my sister."

Arthur and Stanley both stood dumbfounded. Arthur because he couldn't believe Tommy would want to meet with a cop, the same cop that let his baby sister stay in jail all weekend for a minor charge. Stanley because he couldn't believe Tommy expected him to somehow go above Detective Campbell's head.

"But Tommy, I can't. I don't have the power to get him fired!" Stanley pleaded.

"No, I'm not asking you to to fire him, Stanley. I just want to make sure his superiors are fully aware of what he's done, and how he's handling things here." Tommy told him. "I will be taking care of making sure the rest of Elko will know how he's handling things."

"Oh…" Stanley responded, feeling sheepish.

Tommy, finished with talking to the officer, walked away and began to tinker on his race car. Officer Stanley stood for a moment, making awkward eye contact with Arthur before he decided he was no longer needed and turned to leave, squeaking out a meek goodbye as he did so.

"What the hell, Tommy?" Arthur asked, after Stanley had left, turning on his younger brother.

"Relax, Arthur. Despite what you're thinking, I do have a plan." Tommy told his brother, taking his anger seriously.

"Well do you mind, letting me in on it?" Arthur asked his brother, upset about being out in the dark.

"Look, all you need to worry about is that all of this is getting handled." Tommy told Arthur, taking hold of his shoulders with both hands. "Stanley will take care of Campbell, and I'll finish it when I go to speak with him."

"Well, I'm going with you." Arthur announced, making his mind up on the matter.

"No, you need to stay here. This discussion is going to take a finesse that you and I both know you don't have." Tommy told his older brother, looking up at him with one brow raised, knowing his brother's extreme mood swings and influence under alcohol would ruin the dialogue he'd hoped to procure between himself and the DEA agent.

Arthur huffed in response, upset his brother was insulting him. "I know how to fucking talk to people, Tommy!" He roared back.

"I know you do. But this is going to be a different type of conversation." Tommy tried reasoning with his brother. "This man has already made his mind up on you. I'm going to give him an alternative." Tommy explained, hoping to get through to his brother, and rationally calm him down.

It seemed to work, because instead of throwing up fists, Arthur shrugged his shoulders and grumbled to himself about never being included in things.

"Just leave the talking to me. It's so you don't have to." Tommy told his brother and he'd sauntered off into the yard, leaving Tommy alone in the garage.

...

Ada finally made it up to the house. She was met at the door by her brother John, who snickered at her, causing her to hit him, and push him out of her way so she could get inside, and ignore his taunting as much as possible.

She was relieved to see Tommy was not with Polly in the kitchen, as if conferring on what to do with her. No, Polly was alone, sitting at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes. Ada heard the front door slam shut, and she knew her pestering brother had left her and their aunt alone.

Polly looked up from her task, and gave Ada a stern disappointed parent look. Ada rolled her eyes.

"Oh for fucks sake, Pol." She said, plopping down in the seat opposite her aunt. "I didn't even do anything!"

"Sure you didn't. That's why you just got out of jail this morning." Her aunt returned. Polly wiped her hands on a towel and got up from her seat. She walked to the stove and scooped food from a skillet into a plate and set it front of Ada before returning to her seat and her task of peeling.

Ada looked down to see a plate of eggs and bacon and buttered toast. She bit her lip to keep from smiling in front of her aunt and picked up a strip of bacon with her fingers, nibbling on the end for a bit before laying it back on the plate. She sat in silence, listening to her aunt peel potatoes and stared at her plate.

"What?" Polly asked, breaking the silence. "You spend one night in the damn clapper and now you don't want to eat?" Ada looked up to give her aunt a look of disdain in response. "The boys come home after a drunken night, and eat like they've been prisoners of war."

"I'm not my brothers." Ada said, picking up the bacon again, and nibbling on it.

Polly sighed, "You need to eat, Ada. You're doing it for two now." She urged her niece.

Ada snapped her eyes on her aunt, and glared. She pounded her fist on the table. "So everyone fucking knows. Everyone knew but me! Not like I need to know. I'm only the goddamn mother!"

Polly calmly responded, "You didn't know?" She asked.

"No." Ada pouted, pushing food around on her plate.

Polly sighed, pushing her knife and potatoes aside. "Am I to assume it's Freddie's?"

This garnered a sour look from the mother to be. But Polly never wavered in her gaze, boring into Ada's skull.

"Yes it's Freddie's fucking baby." Ada snapped, taking a large bite of her toast, and chewing wildly.

Polly watched her niece stew from across the kitchen table, calculating her reply. "What exactly is it you plan on doing?" She asked, not ready to reveal her hand in what she thought was best for her niece.

Ada got up from the table, not answering her aunt, to sulk towards the fridge to get herself some orange juice. After pouring the juice she set the jug back into the refrigerator and immediately opened up the liquor cabinet to get some vodka to make herself a screwdriver.

"Ah ah ah," Her aunt taunted, getting up to grab the alcohol out of her niece's hands before she could pour it. "Mommies don't get to drink." She advised, setting the vodka back onto the shelf.

Ada looked at her aunt, a dour scowl on her features, but didn't protest. She silently went back to her seat, taking a gulp of her juice before cutting up her eggs.

"I seem to remember that you drank a lot, aunt Polly." Ada noted, glaring up at her aunt, daring her to contradict what the whole town knew was true.

"Yes, and that's why I lost my children, Ada." Polly returned, curtly. "I don't want to see the damn police marching up the lane to take your kids away too."

Ada rolled her eyes, as she started to truly eat the breakfast plate her aunt had prepared for her. She wasn't fazed by what her aunt was trying to say. This wasn't out of the ordinary though. Ever since Ada was a small child, any time she'd gotten in trouble she never took it seriously. She'd roll her eyes, sigh, take her punishment and march on about her business.

Polly realized she needed to change her approach. "I can only imagine what the town has to say about this whole ordeal, Ada." Polly remarked, going back to peeling her potatoes. "I know Tommy isn't happy, but he's got his own issues to deal with, such as the fact that he's just found out his closest friend has knocked up his baby sister."

Ada paused in shoveling food into her mouth to glare up at Polly. She wiped her mouth off on a napkin to reply. "I don't give two fucks about what Tommy thinks. I'm a grown ass woman. He can kiss my ass." She retorted.

"Well, what are you planning on doing, Ada?" Polly asked, turning the conversation. "Your baby daddy is in jail, likely to get carted off to prison. Are you planning on taking care of that baby alone? Otherwise I'd start giving a few shits about your brother."

Ada trade-markedly rolled her eyes. "I am not relying on my brother's 'generosity' to take care of anything."

Polly pursed her lips, knowing she wasn't going to get far with Ada unless she came out and told her what she wanted to tell her. "Ada, they're already calling you a slut. They can come up with a million names, Ada. Whore, tramp, skank. The list goes on and on." Polly told her niece. "But I will tell you that they've yet to come up with a word for the male equivalent, Ada."

Ada stared up at her aunt, unimpressed. "They were calling me that before I got pregnant, Pol."

"The fact remains that Freddie Thorne is not going to be able to take care of you and a baby." Polly urged. She saw Ada ready to rebuttle, but interrupted her chances. "Even if the man wasn't currently sitting in jail, he's not good news, Ada. Do you think he's going to sober up just because he's going to be a daddy? Men don't do that, Ada. Men are weak."

Ada stared back at her aunt ferociously. "What is it you suggest I do, Polly?" She asked, enunciating each syllable with spite.

Polly set down the potato she'd been working on. "Ada you can't do this. Not alone."

"You want me to get an abortion!" Ada realized, sitting back in her chair in upset disbelief.

"It's your best option, Ada. If you put all this behind you, you'd still have a chance." Polly replied, pleading with her beloved niece.

"A chance at what, Pol? A chance at a life YOU want for me?" Ada returned. "I don't want that life. I know what life I want. I want Freddie, and I want this baby."

"Ada, listen to me." Polly came back, lowering her voice, almost fearful to speak the words she were about to utter. "When I was sixteen I was in an almost identical situation. I loved that man, I thought he loved me. But I was wrong. When I told him I was pregnant, his sorry ass up and left me. I didn't know what to do, Ada. You're lucky that now you can actually get an abortion that won't nearly kill you."

Ada bit her lip, unwilling to impugn her aunt for her story. But she was not going to take her advice.

"Polly, I know Freddie." Ada defended her situation.

"I know you think you know Freddie." Polly interrupted. "And you do know Freddie. We all know Freddie. Who you don't know, and can never know, is the bastard that is Freddie when he's on something. That man is unpredictable, and that man has landed 'Your Freddie' into jail, Ada."

"This is just some sort of bullshit. He's been doing this forever. No one ever cared before. I bet you anything Tommy's done it on purpose to punish me." Ada pouted.

"Ada, Tommy can't make a man get arrested." Polly came back. "He wasn't the one selling drugs to high schoolers."

Ada stood up from her seat, done arguing with her aunt. "Freddie is a good man, Polly. I know he loves me, and he's going to be a great father!" She announced, stomping out of the kitchen, ending the conversation in typical dramatic Ada Shelby style.

Polly waved her hands in the air, watching her niece leave. She angrily went back to peeling, grumbling to herself before her anger got the better of her and she chucked the potato in her hand across the room, lodging the it into the thin plaster wall.

…

It was a slow night at the Red Lion. It was a weeknight, so that was to be expected. On slow nights like this one Grace would often leave the lounge and help bring drinks from the bar out to patrons in the rest of the casino, just to pass the time. Harry had left the bar to get supplies from the back and had left Grace alone, in the lounge, when a player she'd never seen before walked through the curtain. He was tall and thin, and in Grace's opinion, very attractive. He walked confidently as if he hadn't a care in the world. He stopped and stood next to the bar, looking over the bottles behind it, as if weighing his options.

Grace tried to remain inconspicuous at the end of the bar, as she peeked at his face, taking in his sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. She tried not to stare, but was fascinated by him, as if she had a magnetic attraction.

"Are you going to take my order?" The man asked Grace in a deep, smoky voice, shattering her thoughts, and snapping back to reality.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm not able to mix drinks. But Harry should be back soon." Grace answered.

The man turned to Grace, and unabashedly looked her up and down. He stopped at her face, studying her eyes and lips as if trying to figure her out.

"You're the singer." He said, as if asking a question.

"Yes." Grace answered, cautiously afraid to say any more.

"You're not from here," The man presumed, resting his elbow on the bar.

Grace's pulse started to race, "No, I'm from New York." She answered, keeping her voice calm.

"City?" He asked casually.

"No, upstate." Grace explained. She heard a click from behind her of the back door closing and she turned to see Harry walking up towards the bar. Grace let go of the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding. Harry noticed the man Grace was talking to, and she noticed Harry's eyes widen in surprise.

"Thomas Shelby," The mystery man spoke, extending a hand to Grace, officially introducing himself.

"Grace Burgess," She answered, taking his hand and shaking. She noticed he had big hands, slightly rough as if he worked with them.

"Tommy! You're in a little early." Harry interrupted, as he hurried to pour a glass of bourbon from the shelf into a glass and slid it across the bar towards Tommy.

Tommy caught it and took a sip, "Had some free time." He replied.

"I see you've met our new star," Harry told Tommy, nodding towards Grace, who was still standing nearby and watching the two interact.

"Yes, I actually had the chance to hear you a few weeks ago." Tommy said to Grace. "It's very different than the usual around here." He added.

"Oh,..." Grace replied, unsure if he meant that as a good thing or not.

"Very different. You're not like others around here." Tommy spoke, slowly swirling the bourbon in his glass.

"Just what the place needed. She's drawing them in here." Harry piped up, defending his employee. Grace thought of how empty it was currently in the lounge and tried not to cringe.

"Oh I know, I've heard it's packed in here on the weekend." Tommy replied. "Different doesn't mean bad." He clarified himself.

Grace smiled sweetly at him in response.

Tommy downed the rest of his bourbon in his glass and set his empty glass on the counter, letting Harry refill it. Tommy pulled out his wallet but Harry brushed him off.

"Oh, no need, Tommy. You know your drinks are always on the house." Harry told him, waving away his cash.

"It's not for me." Tommy responded, laying the money on the counter. Harry looked into Tommy's eyes and raised his eyebrows in question.

Tommy looked over to Grace, "What would you like?" He asked her.

"Oh, I can't drink and work!" Grace protested.

"I know. This is for when you get off work." He told her, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "I want to know what I'm buying."

"Oh!" Grace responded, surprised. "Thank you," She looked at Harry who just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm partial to a classic martini." She supplied.

"Would you like it dirty, like the last time?" Harry asked Grace.

Grace, who had been looking over at Tommy, studying his reactions, looked over at Harry. She was about to answer but paused, furrowing her brow. "Wait… That drink…" She asked, turning back to Tommy, who was now staring at his own drink.

Harry nervously looked at Tommy, waiting to see if he would answer.

"I suppose I'm a good guess, then." Tommy spoke, answering Grace's unasked question.

"It was you, then?" She asked, to clarify that he was in fact the mystery man that had bought her a drink after her first night on the job.

"I've always found that the martini is the safest bet when buying a lady a drink." Tommy replied, staring into Grace's eyes. The look make Grace uncomfortable, but not because it made her feel as if he were trying to get in her pants, but rather break into the fortress of her mind.

"It's my favorite." Grace announced, as if he'd asked her opinion.

Tommy turned to look at Harry, who had been inconspicuously watching the two, before he glanced around the empty lounge. "Well, it doesn't seem like you're too busy tonight." Tommy said to Harry.

"It's weeknight, so yeah." Harry nervously joked.

"You don't mind if I steal your starlett for the night, do you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Harry gulped nervously, and turned to look at Grace. "Of course not, Tommy!" He encouraged. "Just have her back by curfew." He added, trying to joke.

Grace flicked her gaze to Harry, remembering his first words of warning to her about the Shelby's, and yet here he was offering her up like a piece of meat.

"Don't worry, Pops, I'll have her back to you at quitting time." Tommy responded, turning to leave the lounge. He paused and looked at Grace, silently asking her with his look if she, herself, were willing to accompany him.

Grace smiled in response and stepped up beside him, ready to follow where he went. They walked out of the lounge, Tommy holding the curtain aside for Grace to exit, and preceded to walk side by side towards the back of the casino where the high-limit table games were. Tommy took a seat at an open table and Grace stood next to him.

He looked up at her, and wondered why she hadn't sat down next to him. He pondered telling her to sit down next to him, but changed his mind. He bought in and was dealt his first hand. He looked at it and moved his chips to place a bet. He laid his cards face-down on the table and reached into his pocket, digging around, before he pulled out a slightly crumpled red pack of Marlboros. He took out a cigarette and tilted the box in Grace's direction, offering her one.

Grace shook her head, "I don't smoke," She told him, declining the offer.

Tommy stared at her again, that same intense, searching stare. Then glanced up and around the room, looking at the haze of smoke that hung around them, before he responded, "Seems like working here, you might as well."

He put away his pack and picked up one of the match packets from the casino off the table to light his cigarette before slowly exhaling. At this point, the hand had finished and Tommy's bet had been taken from him. He seemed unfazed by this, however.

"What brings you to Elko, then?" Tommy asked Grace, leaning back in his seat and looking up at her, awaiting her answer.

Grace quickly answered, "I needed a change of pace."

"Awfully long way to go just for a change of pace." Tommy replied, leaning forward to place his bet on his next hand. "No…" He said, causing Grace to stiffen beside him. "No, you're here for a reason." He leaned back again and turned to look at her.

He evaluated her, weighing his options in his head. "Something happened. Either family troubles, or bad love." He said, waiting for a response.

Grace didn't reply to either, nor did she deny the accusations. Tommy, who had been watching for a tell-tale sign of guilt, had found none. He pursed his lips and focused back on his game, exhaling a passive response, "Doesn't matter, you're here now."

"I am." Grace replied, keeping her responses short.

Tommy played several hands in silence, winning some and losing others. Grace watched him, now accustomed to silently watching players as they played. She noted that he was an intelligent better, making risky moves at times, but still had a large stack of chips in his inventory.

It had been over ten minutes before Tommy spoke to Grace again. "Do you like cars?" He asked her, not bothering to look in her direction.

Grace wasn't sure how to answer. She didn't really know much about cars. She knew from talk around that the Shelby's were racecar drivers. But she didn't know the first thing about the sport. She didn't even know how to change a tire.

"Sure I like cars. Gets me from A to B." She answered, calculated.

Tommy turned to look up at her from her somewhat snarky reply. "That sounds like the reply of a woman. A woman that doesn't know the first thing about cars, but likes they way the look." He told her.

Grace stood silent beside him, feeling the sting of his insult.

"Would you like to learn?" Tommy asked her, glancing at his hand and the dealer in front of him.

Grace raised her eyebrows in interest."Are you going to teach me to change my oil, Mister Shelby?" She asked, becoming formal.

"No. I want you wearing something nice. I'm taking you to the race." He told her, rather than asking if she wanted to go.

Grace, rather than bristle at his callousness, asked a question, "What am I to wear to a race?"

Tommy, who had just won the hand, scooped up his chips and stood up to leave the table. "Not oil-changing clothes, Miss Burgess." He told her, before walking away, leaving her behind and cashing in his chips.

…

Tommy had spent his afternoon working on fixing a noisy belt on John's Firebird, and was thus covered in a mixture of dirt, grease, and sweat. He had his meeting with Detective Campbell in just a few hours, so he'd cut out early (not quite finished with his task), to shower up and look as professional as possible.

He wiped the fog off of the bathroom mirror with his hand, as he rubbed the top of his head with his towel, drying his hair. He wrapped his towel around his waist and inspected himself in the mirror. He grimaced at the dark circles under his eyes, but knew there wasn't much he could do about were an everyday look now anyway. He rubbed along his jaw, feeling for any leftover stubble from his earlier shaving, and found none. So satisfied with his appearance, he vacated the bathroom, and walked down the hall back to his room.

As he walked down the hall, still naked, save for his towel, he passed Arthur's room, which was empty because his older brother was already out at the Red Lion, then passed his Aunt's room, which was empty because it was Sunday, and she was at church. The last room before his was the room that had been his father's.

The family had given up on keeping vigil for his return long ago, and had turned the room into a family study, to keep records on the junkyard, and any legitimate business they conducted. The door normally stood open, unless someone was inside, usually Polly, going over the books, to keep accounts straight.

Tommy noticed the door was almost closed, save for a crack, but knew Polly was still at Church and wouldn't likely be doing bookkeeping on a Sunday. She was an old-fashioned religious woman ever since she'd reformed herself from her wild youth of alcohol and partying, and liked to keep the Sabbath as a day free of work. The only other people in the house with Tommy were John, who never stepped foot in the office if he could help it, and his sister Ada.

This knowledge gave Tommy an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stopped by the doorway, and silently listened for any noise. He heard the creak of the floor, from the weight of whomever was inside, and listened further. He didn't hear any opening of drawers or flipping of papers as if someone were trying to find some information from the Shelby records. Rather, what he heard was a click of something sturdy being closed.

Tommy's body tingled with shock as he realized someone was in the Shelby safe. And he knew just who it was, and had a good idea of why.

He pushed the door open, its telltale creaking alerting Ada that she'd been caught. She turned to see Tommy staring at her, anger and disappointment clear on his face.

But Ada didn't respond with shame, "Why the fuck are you naked?!" She yelled at him, gesturing towards his towel.

"You know why I'm naked, Ada." Tommy returned, no pause. He raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn't believe she was even trying to act as if she hadn't just been caught red-handed. "You waited until I was in the shower to try and break into the safe."

Ada pouted her lips, angrily. "Look, you don't want to bail your best friend, since kindergarten, out of jail. But I'm going to!" She accused, trying to guilt trip her brother.

Tommy just shook his head as if he were dealing with a small child. "Ada, you're not bailing him out." He told her, trying to snap her into reality.

"Are you going to fight me, to keep this money?" She asked, challenging her brother. Tommy only stared back, making Ada think she'd called his bluff.

In actuality, Tommy would never result to violence to control his sister. But the reason he wasn't going to fight her and had stood there in silence was because he couldn't believe his sister was so delusional.

"Freddie shot a gun at the cops, Ada." Tommy said, trying to reason with Ada.

"I don't give a fuck what he did, Tommy. I'm getting him out because he doesn't belong there." Ada spat back.

"Ada, he has no bail!" Tommy snapped, yelling at her, and advancing on her, done with trying to coddle her like a child. "He's being held without bail, Ada. Do you understand?"

"Fuck off!" Ada screamed back, trying to dodge around her brother and sneak out the door. But their yelling had caught the attention of their brother, John, who had come up the stairs to find out what was going on. She was cornered in the room between the two brothers.

"Ada!" Tommy yelled at her. "No amount of Shelby money is getting him out of that jail."

John chimed in, feeling sorry for his sister. "He's not getting out, Ada. He's going to prison. He fucked up good, sis."

"Screw both of you!" Ada yelled back, choked on her own tears, that had started to spill.

Tommy closed the space between them, and took the cash she held in her hands, which were limp now. He flicked his eyes over towards John, who had been watching his baby sister with pity. Tommy knew leaving Ada with John was his best bet. John was the perfect mix of sweet kindness that Ada needed, but was stern enough to keep her under control in Tommy's absence.

John's eyes met with Tommy's and he knew what his brother wanted. Tommy turned to put the cash back in the safe and came back to his siblings. Ada had sunk down in a chair nearby, crying.

"Watch her, make sure she stays here, and make sure she doesn't get back in that safe." Tommy instructed, before walking past John and out the door, back to his room to dress.

He was going to be late for his meeting now, but that was okay, it gave Detective Campbell the impression that he couldn't care less about this meeting, that he was only there because he'd felt like it on a last whim.

After finishing dressing, he came back to the study to find Ada sniffling, curled up with her brother on the chaise. They both looked up to see Tommy in a sharp button down shirt and a tie. He held a sport coat over his arm, and his hair was even slightly slicked back to perfection.

John looked him up and down, confused with his appearance, since Tommy mostly wore jeans and a t shirt. "What the hell, Tommy?" John asked his brother. "Are you going on a date with the man?"

Tommy rolled his eyes slightly and sighed. "I'll be out for a while. Watch over her, and tell Polly what happened, when she gets home." He responded, ignoring the jab.

Ada sniffled before speaking. "You look nice, where are you going?"

"Doesn't matter." Tommy replied, turning to leave. He paused at the door and added, "You should have waited until I left, then maybe you would have had a better chance at getting that money."

John laughed. And as Tommy walked down the hall he could hear him say "Not that it would have mattered."

…

As Tommy walked into the restaurant, the sun was just beginning to set on the horizon. Which made the perfect setting for the Vieux de la Gamme, which was perched on the side of the mountain range overlooking the entire town of Elko, with an excellent view of the sunset in the West.

The Vieux de la Gamme was the nicest restaurant in the city, and Tommy was sure that Campbell had chosen it to try and put him off, as he wasn't the usual clientele. But Tommy showed up, sleek in his suit and tie. He could see Detective Campbell sitting by himself as soon as he walked into the dining room, but was still led to the table by the maitre d.

Campbell was very formal, "Mister Shelby." He greeted, standing up to greet Tommy. They both took their seats as a waiter came to take their drink orders. "I'll have another San Pellegrino," Campbell ordered, and looked to Tommy.

Tommy, stone-faced, had watched Campbell order his fancy water, and turned to the waiter. "Your top shelf bourbon." He ordered.

Campbell raised a brow at Tommy's order, but decided against remarking on it. Instead he tried making light conversation. "I thought we might order hors d'oeuvres before the meal, if you'd like." He suggested.

Tommy stared back at Campbell, looking him in the eyes, trying to figure out if he was being serious, or making light of the matter at hand. "I decided to meet with you because I am a family man." Tommy told him, cutting to the chase, and not bothering with small talk. "I'm a family man that wants my family business to succeed."

"And I want there to be peace and order in this town." Campbell countered, waving the waiter away after he'd delivered the men's beverages.

"Well, if the city stays peaceful and orderly, my business can thrive." Tommy replied, staring Campbell down.

Campbell wasn't willing to shrink back under Tommy's gaze, he let Tommy look into his eyes, showing him there was no sins to hide there. "So we're on the same side then?" He asked Tommy, taking a sip of his sparkling water.

"I think, perhaps, maybe." Tommy answered, swirling the bourbon in his glass. He didn't take a drink, just watched the amber liquid spiral around in his low ball cup.

Campbell set down his fluted glass and leaned forward towards Tommy in a menacing manner before speaking. "But how can we possibly be on the same side if your sister was found naked in bed with a known criminal?" He asked Tommy, certain he'd caught him in a trap. "Are you, too, in bed with the criminals?"

Tommy didn't bat an eye, never even flinched. He just kept his gaze fixed on Campbell's. "I don't need to enter a fantasy world to fix my problems." Tommy returned, making it clear that he knew what Freddie was charged with and had known for a while what his previous friend was up to.

"Freddie Thorne is at the top of my list." Campbell countered, sitting back in his seat.

"I can't imagine why. He's only a junkie selling party pills to high schoolers for prom." Tommy replied, glibly. "Which is why he can be a part of our deal." Tommy told Campbell, beginning to lay out what he'd come for.

Campbell broke away from Tommy's penetrating gaze, at that. He looked off to the side, thinking in his head, and wondering how this common man could be so bold as to meet with a DEA agent and try to strike up a deal. Campbell felt indignant, it was his position to offer the deal to Tommy, not the other way around.

Tommy, seeing Campbell's virtual aside, took the chance to taste the bourbon he'd ordered, taking a polite sip. He'd just swallowed the sweet, pungent spirit when Campbell came back to him.

"What deal, Mister, Shelby?" Campbell asked him, formally using Tommy's surname in an effort to regain control of the conversation.

"You and your men are going to leave me and my family alone from now on." Tommy instructed Campbell, not wasting any time dancing around the subject. "No more kidnapping my brother, or arresting my sister and holding her in the drunk tank on a bullshit fine, and no interfering with my business interests." Tommy ordered, his voice even and cold.

"And what business might that be?" Campbell asked Tommy, trying to mask his discontent at Tommy's callous demands.

"It doesn't matter. I assure you it's all legal. The point is you're going to forget that it even exists." Tommy answered.

Campbell pursed his lips, staring Tommy down, hardly believing how brazen the young man sitting before him was. "And what do I get in return for turning a blind eye to all your family's many indiscretions?" He asked.

It was Tommy's turn to sit back in his seat, smug. "The cocaine." He answered simply.

Campbell stared at Tommy in shock, dumbfounded that Tommy was admitting he knew exactly what Campbell was after.

"I have what you're looking for." Tommy added, nonchalantly taking another drink of his bourbon.

"What cocaine?" Campbell finally replied, faking innocence.

Tommy narrowed his eyes and stood up suddenly from his chair, setting his glass down on the table, with a loud clunk. "I'm not here to play games." He told Campbell, turning to leave the agent at the table alone.

Campbell hastily held up a hand, scooting his own chair back. "Wait." He called out, causing Tommy to stall in his exit, and take notice of Campbell. "I'll hear this out."

Tommy regarded Campbell, knowing that he had him where he wanted him. He took his seat, relaxedly lounging in it as he went into detail.

"200 pounds of pure cocaine. Came up from down south, probably headed for Washington. Worth at least… Two million, maybe three." Tommy rattled off, letting Campbell know that he did know the facts. And there was only one way he knew the facts. "Plus the recent strong DEA presence, and your very reason for being here with me now, is to find that cocaine."

Campbell leaned back silent in his seat, taking in all that Tommy had to say, slightly overwhelmed that the man was obviously two steps ahead of him.

"If I am taken into custody for interrogation, or any other reason, my men are going to get rid of the drugs, and you'll never find them. The precious trail that you've been following will have died and gone cold." Tommy went on, knowing full well that the discussion was over and he'd taken full control. But he couldn't resist hammering the nail on the coffin. "Plus with what you've done to my sister, who is in delicate condition I might add, is not going to sit well with your superiors in Virginia. So if the drugs go poof, it's likely that your whole career will go with them."

Campbell couldn't hold back the slight sneer, that pulled at his lip. Giving Tommy the satisfaction of knowing he had Campbell right where he wanted him, and was clearly getting deep under his skin.

"But if you leave the Shelby family alone— which includes Freddie Thorne, because you know as well as I that my sister's baby is that man's— I will tell you where the drugs are." Tommy told Campbell, laying out his demands. "Which would likely make your career, wouldn't it? Perhaps get you a medal?" He finished, patronizing the man with a twinkle in his eye.

Finished with his speech, Tommy folded his hands in his lap, waiting for Campbell to contemplate and come up with an answer. Campbell looked down from Tommy's impatient gaze, and took a slow drink of his water, weighing the options in his mind.

"So… Do we have a deal?" Tommy urged Campbell for an answer.

Campbell snapped his eyes back to Tommy's, impertanence flashed across his face. He realized he'd completely lost his poker face, and took another drink of water, clearing his complection of any emotion before answering.

"It's agreeable." Campbell admitted, his poker face failing, and revealing how much he loathed to agree to Tommy's demands. "Although I don't want to shake on it." He added, glaring at Tommy from across the table.

Tommy didn't crack a smile, only the slight twinkle of his eye was still visible. He blinked slowly and nodded in Campbell's direction before standing up. He downed the rest of his drink, noticing that Campbell had failed to rise with him to give a courteous goodbye.

As Tommy set down his glass on the table, he flicked his eyes from the glass to Campbell's surly demeanor. "Why would I shake the hand of a man who wouldn't even fight for his country?" He asked, before silently making his exit.

…

Tommy was winding through the backroads of Elko, making his way back home after his successful meeting with Campbell. The sun had fully set, and dark clouds were masking the light of the moon, the air charged and the sky brewing up a storm. As Tommy drove on, his headlights casting yellow rays on the road before him, his mind was elsewhere. Tommy was traveling to places beyond the present when his reverie was interrupted by the buzz of his cellphone.

He wiggled in his seat, grabbing the phone out of his pocket, and pressed the touch screen to answer the call.

"John?" he addressed his caller, one hand lying lazily on the top of the steering wheel.

"Tommy you gotta come to the track." Came the urgent sounding response on the other end.

Tommy paused before answering, wondering what his brother could possibly need him to go to the track for. He knew that John was supposed to be headed over there to pick up the Camaro he raced with and bring it home, but surely he hadn't run into Parker Lee and stirred up trouble.

"Why do I need to go to the track, John?" Tommy asked, with no desire to travel over there. He knew Parker was still upset with him, and if he saw him there only a week after telling him never to come back, he'd likely be upset. Which was why he'd sent his brother John to go collect the Camaro from the garage, where they usually left it.

"Just get over here. You're gonna need to see this, Tommy." John came back, his voice pleading.

There was a pause before Tommy answered back. Had he any free hand, he would have reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he had none. So instead he just replied back, "I'll be there in a few." Before clicking off the call, and hanging up.

At the next intersection, Thomas made a sharp turn, making his way back the way he'd come, headed back towards the Elko Racetrack. Tommy knew something was up, because it wasn't like his brother to be overly dramatic, but he still wished John could have dealt with it on his own.

Thankfully none of the Lee boys were out on the track or near the garage when Tommy pulled up in his Challenger. John however, was waiting for him. Tommy was pleased to see Ada leaned up against the side of the truck the Shelbys used to haul their trailer, looking bored. This meant John had the foresight to bring her with him, rather than leave her at home alone with the safe.

"What's the big deal?" Tommy asked, swinging his car door shut, and walking towards his brother, hands in his pockets.

"I wanted you to see it for yourself, Tommy." John answered, leading his brother towards the stand-alone garage bay where his racing Camaro was normally stored if they weren't taking it home to modify and work on it.

Tommy glaced at Ada, who was watching him stroll by, meeting her gaze. He'd hoped for a change in her emotion at his presence, to give him a hint of what was going on, but Ada's face stayed stoic.

John reached down to pull the garage door up, revealing Tommy's bright red Camaro, except its immaculate cherry red paint job had literally melted off onto the concrete. John stood back, anxious of his brother's reaction.

Tommy slowly walked around the car, taking in the damage. All four tires were slashed and flat as a pancake, the windshield was shattered and sagging inwards, and the entire body was dented and lumped like someone had taken a metal baseball bat to it, repeatedly. As Tommy made it to the driver's side, he knelt down, tracing his finger along the deep etch marks, that spelled out "Tommy." The marks went so deep that in parts, the metal had been cut all the way through.

Thomas slowly rose back up and placed his hands on his hips, standing silent as he stared at his once pristine racer. John came up to his side, feeling safe to be near him after seeing his brother's calm reaction.

"You know who done it. Them fucking Lees." John told him, spitting out the name like it had burned his mouth to say it.

Tommy raised his arms, holding onto the back of his head in disbelief. He took a few steps back, trying to process what had just happened to his car.

"They did it on purpose, Tommy. To make sure you couldn't race." John added, seeing that his

brother was starting to understand the severity of the situation.

Tommy slowly moved his hands from the back of his head down to his face, holding them over his mouth. He started to pace back and forth beside the car, his mind racing.

"When did you get here?" He asked John suddenly, grabbing hold of his brother's shoulders.

"We got here no more than an hour ago." John answered, beginning to worry about his brother's sudden change in mood.

"And the door was closed?" Tommy asked. John just shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head fearful to answer. Tommy grabbed tighter on John's shoulders, shaking him. "Was the door fucking closed, John!?" He yelled, shoving his brother away with an answer in the positive.

Tommy stomped to the front of the car, yanking the hood up to look at the engine. Inside he saw several snipped wires lying about, likely to the spark plugs, and a solidified, blue substance spilling out from the oil cap.

Tommy stepped back before shaking his head. "Fuck!" He yelled out, kicking at the front fender.

John timidly peeked at the engine to see what the matter was. "I didn't even look under the hood, Tommy." He admitted, stepping closer to the engine, and picking at the hard, blue substance around the oil tank with his finger, finding that it was solid like plastic, and he was unable to pry off the cap from the top.

Tommy turned around to pace away from the car, trying to calm himself down. He found Ada still leaned against the old truck, her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. Tommy narrowed his eyes, but chose to ignore her.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into the palms of his hands, and turning his knuckles white. He held them like that as long as he could, giving it the most strength and effort he could give before releasing them and letting out a slow breath.

Tommy walked back to where he'd left his brother, no emotion on his face as he regarded him, now. "Where's your lighter?" He asked, calmly.

"What?" John asked, confused, and wary of his brother's equally sudden return to a calm attitude.

"I need your lighter, John." Tommy told him, leaving his side, and walking to the back of the garage, picking up the bottles of oil and brake fluid scattered there, searching for a specific container. He paused on one, satisfied with it's contents and walked over to the side of his car, flipping open the gas flap. He motioned for John to come nearby. "Mine's in the car, give me your lighter." He told his brother as he poured the contents of the bottle into the gas tank.

John handed over his lighter, as Tommy finished pouring liquid into the gas tank, picking the bottle up and sloshing it around to check how much he had left inside. Tommy turned to his brother, looking past him at Ada, still standing by the truck. "Take her home." He instructed.

"What are you doing?" John asked, alarmed. He'd refused to leave his brother's side, curious as to why his brother needed his lighter.

"Just take Ada home, John." Tommy told him, staring him coldly in the eyes, and making it clear he wasn't going to discuss the matter further.

John wanted to protest, but thought better of it, and slowly backed away from his older brother, before turning around and walking back to the truck. Tommy could hear his brother's faint commands towards Ada to get in the truck, and his sister's imperceptible objections. But before Tommy had even retrieved an old shop cloth from the floor in the back of the bay he could hear the rumble of the old truck coming to life and the scatter of gravel, meaning it had pulled away.

Tommy carefully soaked the cloth with the rest of the contents of the bottle and stuffed it into the opening of the gas tank, leaving a bit of it dangling out the side. Tommy stood back, taking one last look at his once beautiful Camaro before switching the lighter and lighting the cloth.

He calmly, but quickly paced back to his Challenger, turning her ignition and giving her little time to warm up before spinning her back and out of the lot. Tommy was hardly on the road before a sonic boom rattled his windows, and caused him to flinch in his seat.

…

The Sunday crowd had just cleared out of the VIP lounge, leaving Grace alone to pick up abandoned glasses and spilled beer. Harry had the night off, so it fell to her to clean up the mess. It was early in the evening, for the casino anyway, which was open all night. Grace hadn't expected any other visitors to her lounge on a slow Sunday such as this one. Her piano player and other musicians had already left her, so she wasn't planning on singing anymore songs. The rest of her night was going to consist of taking and delivering drink orders to the rest of the casino floor.

Grace had her fingers dug deep into the remains of the backwash of deserted beer and bourbon, when she turned around to cart the many glasses clasped between her fingers back to the bar. When she looked up, she found a soaking wet Thomas Shelby seated at her bar, alone.

She jumped in fright, not expecting to see anyone there, but composed herself before continuing in his direction.

"Mister Shelby," She greeted him, coming around the back of the bar and setting her glasses down on the counter. "I must ask you why you're soaking wet." She asked him, coyly teasing with him.

His eyes flickered to hers and the genial smile she held on her face fell. His burning gaze and cold features made it clear he was not in any mood to joke around.

"It's raining." He answered darkly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. As he lit one and took a slow drag, his eyes never moved from Grace's. Grace felt her very soul being searched, but bravely stared right back.

Tommy finally broke eye contact by bending over the bar, and grabbing the nearest bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Grace flinched, trying to decide if she should stop him, but decided to let it go. Everytime Thomas Shelby had been in her bar, Harry had always given Tommy all his drinks on the house.

Tommy picked up his glass taking a large gulp, before setting it back down on the bar. He took another drag of his cigarette, flicking off the ashes onto the bare bartop.

"You like singing?" He asked Grace, his voice deep.

"Yes." She replied simply, glancing at his fallen ashes.

"Sing me a song." He demanded, leaning back in his seat.

Grace furrowed her brows at his impertinent and demanding attitude but didn't' hesitate in her response. "What would you like?" She asked him, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. "Happy or sad?"

Tommy pondered for a beat. "Sad." He answered her, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Okay. But I'll warn you…" She replied, "It'll break your heart."

Tommy smirked before shaking his head. "Already broken."

Grace hummed a tune, softy starting off a song before crooning out its lyrics. She kept her eyes locked on Tommy's, watching his reaction while her heart beat wildly in her chest.

She had chosen to sing a folk song, one whose story told of a military man who'd left his lover behind to fight the war and had never come home. She'd chosen that one because she knew from talk around her that he was a Marine veteran. From what she'd heard most of his friends and war buddies hadn't come home. They were here, physically back in Elko, but they weren't truly here. Somehow parts of their souls had been lost overseas. Grace wondered if Tommy's soul had come back whole.

Grace watched Tommy as he watched her sing. Her voice rose and fell, lilting on the notes and words. Once finished with her performance she stood still, awaiting some sort of response from Tommy. But he neither smiled, nor frowned. He only looked away from Grace to take a drink, finishing off his glass. He set his empty glass down on the counter with a loud clang and stared at it, his hand still gripping the base of the cup.

Grace took the initiative to grab the bottle of whiskey and fill up the glass with the amber liquid. But Tommy was still leaned back in his seat, staring at the cup in his hand.

Grace was afraid to speak, feeling that if she broke the silence it would upset Tommy. She didn't want to move either, somehow frozen with him.

"What made you choose that song?" Tommy asked her, shattering the moment of stillness. His gaze was still fixed on his whiskey.

Grace paused, wondering if she should admit that she knew of his military career. It certainly wasn't top secret. The news was well known, and he must have known that someone would have told her about it by now, especially since he was a frequent customer of the business she worked at.

"I enjoy the story." Grace replied softly.

Tommy's eyes flickered to Grace's when she answered. So she squared her jaw, telling herself that it was the truth, and she had no need to hide that, nor did she need to hide the fact that she knew he was an ex Marine.

"Well, Miss Grace, if you enjoy stories of death and despair, you seem to be working in the right establishment." Tommy told her before picking up his glass and walking out of the bar with it.

…

Only one week later, Ada was back in jail. Only this time, she was on the other side of the bars, Or rather plexiglass. She was leaned forward, telephone handset pressed up against her ear. She was sporting a pair of ratty jeans and an old t shirt, while the man she was engrossed in conversation with had on a very fashionable orange jumpsuit.

"Freddie, I know it's total horseshit." Ada crooned into the telephone, her mouth twisted into a pout.

On the other side of the glass, Freddie, pressed a hand to the plexiglass between them. "I'm only glad you're out of this joint." He assured her. "That's what's total horseshit, babe. You didn't do anything."

Ada twisted at the phone cord with her fingers, looking away from Freddie's gaze. He could tell something was on her mind, something she was keeping from him.

"What is it?" He asked, wishing he could hold her shoulders, or drape his arms around her waist, hold her close, and make it all better.

Ada's eyes flickered to Freddie's full of guilt. Freddie picked up on this.

"Tell me, baby. What is it? Is it your brothers?" He asked again, fearing that his former friend had laid down the law, and forbidden Ada from seeing him anymore. Although, surely if it had happened, Ada would have told Thomas Shelby to go fuck himself. Her feisty nature, and defiant independence from her notorious brothers was one of the many reasons Freddie Thorne had fallen in love with the little sister of the Shelby clan.

"No,..." Ada answered, meekly, before changing her attitude and becoming indignant. "But those little shits aren't on my good list right now." She admitted.

"Okay then." Freddie answered, his shoulders slumping, seeing that getting information out of his secret girlfriend was going to be a struggle. "What is it then, Ada?"

"Well, first of all, I'm pissed." Ada started, her mood full of piss and vinegar. "Because everyone in all of goddamn Elko seems to have known before me." She explained, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.

"Knew what?" Freddie asked, bewildered, and annoyed that Ada hadn't gotten to the point already.

"Freddie…" She paused, looking around herself, as if someone might be listening in on their conversation. Freddie rolled his eyes. Their entire conversation was being recorded, after all.

"I found out I'm… Pregnant." She peeped out, letting the word hang out in the open.

Ada's heart pounded in her chest, searching Freddie's eyes for his reaction. She watched as his face went from receptive, to surprise, to fearful contemplation, and finished on tentative happiness.

"Ada, are you serious?" He asked her, pressing his palm against the glass, his eyes wide and searching.

"Yep." Ada answered, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Oh my god." Freddie exclaimed in surprise. Holding onto the side of his head in disbelief. "Oh my god." He said again, staring off behind Ada, his mind wandering.

"Look, I didn't even know, until Tommy fucking told me in the car on the way home from when he bailed me out on Monday." Ada explained, thinking Freddie must be upset she hadn't told him earlier.

"Tommy told you?" Freddie asked, confused and snapping back to the present moment, off of thoughts of him teaching a little boy how to walk and eat peas.

"Yeah, and evidentially everyone in this fucking town knows." Ada pouted, clenching her fists. "I get home and everyone's laughing at me. Polly told me to get an abortion!"

"Whoah!" Freddie said, holding up his hands. "You're not going to are you?" He asked her, a sadness creeping into his voice, which caused Ada's pounding heart to melt.

"No, of course not, Freddie." She assured him.

"Good." Freddie answered, before catching himself. "Of course, if you wanted to, I guess that's your choice. It's your body…"

Ada smirked at Freddie through the glass. "Of course it is. I'm the one that's gonna get fat, and have saggy tits."

Freddie rolled his eyes in response, knowing Ada was teasing him now. "I'm thankful you're taking one for the team, Ada." He remarked sarcastically. But deep inside he was thankful. Never in the man's life had he thought a moment would come where he was told he'd gotten a girl pregnant, and in jail or all places, and he'd be as happy about it as he was now.

Freddie scooted to the front of his seat in excitement. "God, Ada..." He said, glancing at Ada's stomach, trying to see if he could make out any protruding shape.

"Freddie, I know you're going to be a great father. I know I don't have anything to worry about." Ada convinced the man on the other side of the glass, pressing her palm to the glass, to meet his.

Freddie smiled, feeling emotional. for once, in a positive way. A thought struck him, and he straightened in his seat, becoming serious. "Ada…" He spoke, his eyes darting as he searched inwardly for the right words.

"Yes?" Ada returned, prodding him to continue.

Freddie rubbed at the back of his head, feeling sheepish. "I know, this isn't the most romantic of places." He told her and Ada grinned, looking around them at the dingy walls and faded plastic seats. "But I want you to know I love you. And I love this baby." He told her, serious affection lacing his words.

Ada beamed back at him. But then her face fell. "Tommy's gonna hate you." She told him, crossing her arms again. "He's probably already plotting your demise, as we speak."

Freddie laughed. "I'm not worried about Tommy." He scoffed. "I'm not afraid of any Shelby." He boasted, before ducking his head and smiling sweetly at Ada. "Except for their sister, of course."

"Oh, Freddie!" Ada gushed, scooting closer to the plexiglass. "If only we could be together now, really, truly together." She lamented, pressing against the thick glass with her fingers.

"We will be soon, babe. And I promise you, when I get out of here, I'm making an honest woman out of you." Freddie declared.

A guard came through the back door, entering the space where Freddie had been sitting, handcuffed to the wall. Ada's eyes caught him before Freddie realized he was with them. But after the two realized they were no longer alone, desperation set in.

"I love you Freddie Thorne!" Ada shouted, standing up, and pressing a fist against the glass.

The guard eyed Ada cautiously, before coming up behind Freddie, and addressing him. "Your time is up. Wrap this up." He warned Freddie.

Freddie shot the guard a glare. "I just found out I'm going to be a father, man!" He explained, annoyed. "Give a man some time to celebrate."

"Well, then you shouldn't have broken the law." The guard came back, unimpressed. He grabbed onto Freddie's arm, lifting him up from the chair, and uncuffing him from the wall.

"Freddie!" Ada screamed, fearful of letting the father of her future child go.

"I'll be out soon, babe. Just you wait. I promise, together we're gonna build this family." Freddie urged Ada from over his shoulder as he was led out of the room.

"The Thorne family!" Ada answered, pressed up against the glass, watching as Freddie disappeared out the door and back into his cell. She stayed that way until her breath fogged up the glass and she couldn't see anything anymore.

She reluctantly peeled herself from the cubicle and marched her way out of the visiting area and out of the jail, her head held high. She felt proud to be having Freddie Thorne's baby. She held herself up with the idea of being Ada Thorne.

Those that watched her walk out shook their heads at her proud nature, muttering to themselves. "Damn Shelby's."

…

The smoke hung heavy around the high-limit blackjack tables at the Red Lion. This was partly due to the fact that it was a busy Saturday night, but also because the Shelby boys were all in attendance. While at the Red Lion they all tended to chain smoke like they didn't have a tomorrow coming. Tonight, Arthur was puffing away on a fat cigar while at the table, making the haze thicker than normal.

Tommy Shelby had just waived on a hit, passing the chance onto his brothers. He lifted his half burnt down cigarette to his lips and had just taken a quick inhale when a newcomer stepped up to the table.

Billy Kimber took the seat on the other side of the table from Tommy, which put both Arthur and John in between them. Billy laid down three one hundred dollar bills to buy in. As Tommy lazily blew smoke from his lips and the dealer shouted the buy-in to his boss, Billy leaned over to make sure Tommy had seen him dare to take a seat at his table. Tommy regarded Billy with little emotion, just a flicker of the eyes.

"Sorry fellas, I'm here to fuck up your game." Billy roared, smug. He mimed a cartoonish version of being struck with an idea before he continued. "Just like your little red Camaro is royally fucked. As far as I hear, anyway."

Tommy noticed Billy's conceited smirk, but chose not to rise to the insult. His brothers however did not.

"The fuck you hear about it?" Arthur asked Billy, angrily slamming a fist down on the table, causing precarious stacks of chips to rattle and fall.

Billy grinned, raking in the chips he'd been given for his buy-in. "Hell, it's no secret. The whole town knows about the fire at the track." He announced, chuckling to himself. "If you wanna call it a fire. More like an explosion."

Tommy reached over Arthur to flick his cigarette ashes into his brother's ashtray, silently catching his brother's attention. He gave his older brother a look, warning him not to speak further. Thankfully for Tommy, Billy began speaking again before his other brother, John, could speak up either.

"You boys done fucked over them Lees. They're mighty pissed at you." Billy said, laying out a bet before being dealt his cards. Tommy's eyes flickered to watch Billy's face as he peeked at his cards. "They certainly made a statement, by blowing up your damn car." He chuckled, leaning back in his seat and smirking at Tommy.

"What the fuck—" John started, confused with Billy's interpretation of the story. But Tommy cut his brother off.

"Billy, you race in your mustang, right?" Tommy asked him, making a point. Billy's face washed over with wary confusion as he nodded yes. "Do you know why I don't race in my Challenger?" He asked, waiting for Billy to come up with an answer.

Billy froze, wracking his brain for some sort of answer, but all that came out was "Uhh…"

Tommy's eyes lit up with merriment, knowing he'd gotten the reaction he wanted. His lips however stayed stoic as he gave Billy the answer. "That would be because I have the luxury of choosing from many a car to race." Tommy explained. "If I so desired, I could drive a different car every day of the week, Billy."

Both Arthur and John were now sitting back in their chairs, arms crossed, grinning smugly at Billy. "You forgot we own the damn junkyard, didn't ya, Billy?" Arthur jabbed, taking a deep drag off of his cigar and blowing it in Billy's direction.

Billy scowled, "No! I remember all the pieces of junk you have laying around in that dump." He countered.

"That's true. Right now all those cars are useless. But I have so many to choose from, Billy. But that's not the point, is it?" Tommy told him, rubbing out his cigarette as he was paid out for a winning hand.

Billy glowered, his eyes burning into Tommy's. Tommy didn't seem to mind. He picked up his chips, lazily slipping them into his pocket as he stood up from the table.

"I've consistently beat you on the track in my Camaro, and I've beat you on the street in my Challenger. It's not the car you need to worry about, Billy. It's the driver." Tommy told him, picking up his jacket off the back of the seat and walking off.

Billy glared at Tommy, grinding his jaw as Tommy walked away from him. Arthur and John both leaned over the table, snickering to themselves, which was not lost on Billy.

"Well good fucking luck on getting one of your pieces of shit ready in time for next week's race." Billy roared, pushing in chips to bet more on his hand. "Oh, wait, that's right. You can't race at the Elko track anymore, anyway." He added, feeling superior.

John laughed. "We all know you're only happy cause Tommy not racing is the only way you can win one."

Arthur chuckled, joining in on his brother's trash talk. "Yeah, we don't need no shitty track or Camaro to beat your ass. Tommy can show you up any day of the week!"

Billy grumbled as his chips were taken away. He stood up to leave the table, upset at losing the game, and no longer willing to sit and let the Shelby brothers jab at him. Before leaving he turned to glare at the boys. "Good luck getting any piece of shit on the Lee track again." He told them, feeling that he'd had the last word on the matter and sauntered off, shoulders held high.

After Billy's absence, and a good laugh at the man's expense Arthur leaned into his brother. "If Billy thinks the Lees started the fire, the whole town must think it." He whispered.

"Let them think it. I don't see the Lees coming to apologize, so they're taking the credit." John replied, betting more of his chips.

"Still, it doesn't look good for us." Arthur came back, worried.

John didn't seem worried in the slightest, grabbing the token cigarette behind his ear and lighting it up. "I'm not worried. Tommy'll think of something." John explained, pounding the table in excitement as the dealer revealed cards that meant John's bet was going to be paid back double, while Arthur lost his.

Arthur snarled. Not at his brother's win, but that he had more faith in the middle brother than the eldest.


End file.
